


Falling

by vericus



Series: Falling [1]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Doorwings, M/M, Smut, spark bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-12
Updated: 2012-06-12
Packaged: 2017-11-07 14:29:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 34,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/432171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vericus/pseuds/vericus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prowl isn't quite sure why Optimus decided to send his second and third in command on a simple recon mission, but he isn't too pleased about it, especially when he falls down a cliff and dislocates his door wings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Falling

"I have about a dozen things I could be doing right now besides this," Prowl grumbled as he carefully made his way along the slim ledge.

"Ya, but would ya have th'same wonderful company for it?" Jazz asked cheerfully from behind him, and Prowl threw a glare over his shoulder at the saboteur.

"Considering how often you come bother me in my office, yes, I _would_ have the same _irritating_ company," the tactician said grumpily, and Jazz adopted a hurt look. "I don't understand Optimus' reasoning in sending his two most senior officers out to do a little recon, anyways. Hound could have easily managed this by himself, or even Bumblebee." Actually, the mini-bot spy would have been better suited for this mission, considering the width of the ledge they were currently on. It was sturdy, for which Prowl was thankful, but it was barely wide enough for them to fit on, and there wasn't an alternate route. The top of the cliff would be too visible, and the bottom of this particular canyon held a fast-moving rapids that would be even worse to manoeuvre through. And the other side of the canyon had no edge, and just as little cover on the top. So, this ledge was the only way to approach the lake where the Decepticons were apparently up to something or other.

"Maybe he jus' didn't wantcha t'forget how t'do this," Jazz commented lightly. Prowl grunted, focusing on where to put his feet next as he got to a particularly slim spot.

"Perhaps. But then why are _you_ here?" he finally replied once he was past the tricky area. Irritatingly, Jazz didn't even hesitate in answering while crossing the same spot.

"T'make sure y'don't get killed?" the saboteur suggested.

_"Thank you,_ Jazz, for the vote of confidence in my abilities," Prowl growled.

"I'm jus' sayin'. How long has it been since you've been out in th'field for anythin' other'n a major battle against the 'Cons?" Jazz asked.

"Two years," Prowl replied without having to think about it. "Which is hardly anything. I have gone an entire _vorn_ back on Cybertron without even seeing a battle. It happens. It does not mean I'm going to 'forget' how to fight, or how to do scout work."

"Aw, lighten up and just enjoy it, Prowl," Jazz said. Prowl just made a sour sound in reply. There was an uneasy silence for a few more minutes before Jazz finally spoke up again. "What's got ya so irritated, anyways? It's just a simple recon mission. You're not even gettin' really scratched up, which is somethin' I'd expect Sunny t'care about, not you, anyways."

"Bad timing," Prowl grunted after a moment. "There was a chess tournament I was going to go watch today."

"A chess tournament?" Jazz said incredulously.

"A human I know is playing in it," Prowl snapped.

"Since when do ya know a human?" Jazz teased. Prowl didn't even dignify that with a response. "Why not just record it an' watch it later?" Jazz asked after a moment.

"It is not a large or important enough event to be tele-cast, and thus cannot be recorded," Prowl replied.

"Y'mean you were goin' in person?" Jazz asked in surprise.

"Yes," Prowl answered shortly, as he'd reached a tricky part of the ledge, where it suddenly narrowed to half its normal width for a few steps.

"Wow...that'll be yer first day off in, what, several thousand years? Not countin' th'millions of years in stasis, of course," Jazz commented.

"Actually, I took two days off last year," Prowl said. "One after the negotiations with China, and the other after Ratchet rebuilt the leg Menasor stepped on." Jazz frowned, thinking back.

"You went straight back t'work as soon as ya got back from China. I know, I remember walkin' into th'command center the next mornin' an' seein' ya there," he said. "An' ya sat in yer office all day after Ratchet released ya after he rebuilt yer leg."

"I didn't say I took a day off after I got _back_ from China. I said I took one after the negotiations were finished," Prowl said patiently. "One of the diplomats offered to give me a tour of the area, and I accepted. We ended up going out for most of the day."

"Oh," Jazz said. "But you can't deny that you were in yer office th'entire day after yer leg was reconstructed."

"Did you see anyone enter my office that day?" Prowl asked, and Jazz frowned, digging through the old data-files.

"Now that ya mention it, no, I didn't..." Jazz said. "Lots of people knockin', but y'never let 'em do more'n poke their head in."

"That would be because I was busy reading," Prowl said. "The lights in my quarters were broken, so until Hoist could fix them, I needed an alternate place to read."

"An' it was rainin' outside all week," Jazz filled in the rest. "Why not th'rec room?"

"Too noisy. I prefer quiet while reading," Prowl replied easily.

"Huh," Jazz said. "Well, sorry fer ruinin' one'a yer two days off a year, then."

"I'll have another opportunity, I suppose," Prowl said with a sigh. "I just hope the Decepticons are doing something out here worth the two of us spending all day trying to get close enough to see."

"I'm sure they're up ta somethin' simply dastardly," Jazz replied, though if Prowl had looked back at that moment, he would've seen the saboteur cringing even as he said that. He didn't, however, and the two Autobot officers continued along the ledge in silence, until eventually they looked up and saw the sparkling lake that was their destination. Prowl carefully quieted his foot-steps, and hugged the cliff-face more closely. He glanced back at Jazz to see the saboteur doing the same, and then at a nod, Jazz activated his signal-dampening field. The field only had a limited duration, but so long as it was up, the only way the Decepticons would be able to find them was if they got close enough to see them, or Prowl or Jazz made enough noise to be heard. It was quite handy - well, when in Autobot hands. Prowl couldn't count the number of times he'd wished that Laserbeak and Ravage didn't have similar dampening fields.

Which reminded him that he should be keeping a look out for the two mechs, and he watched carefully for them as he made his way forward. The ledge was beginning to narrow now, so that he couldn't progress any farther, and Jazz stepped forward, pulling out his grappling hook and securing it, then sliding down carefully to the bottom of the canyon, where the rapids had calmed slightly. Prowl followed, and Jazz disengaged his grappling line, leaving it to hang there for their retreat. Then, quietly, the two officers crept forward, peaking out of the mouth of the canyon.

Prowl could tell immediately that there were no Decepticons in the area, and hadn't been for some time. Not only was there a distinct lack of any sort of Cybertronian signals or construction, but there was a small herd of deer grazing on the far side of the lake, and birds flittering around all over the place. It was a surprisingly undisturbed piece of wilderness, in fact, and Prowl doubted that many humans had even been there.

"Well. This was worth the trip," Prowl said dryly.

"Nice piece'a scenery," Jazz commented.

"Very calm. Virtually undisturbed," Prowl agreed.

"Almost feel like we're intrudin' just being here," Jazz continued.

"And we certainly wouldn't want to disturb such a wonderful landscape," Prowl concluded grumpily, then turned and motioned for Jazz to lead the way back down the canyon so they could get Jazz's grappling hook before taking the easy way out, now that they didn't have to creep along and attempt to avoid detection from Decepticons that weren't actually there. Jazz headed back down the canyon, his steps easier now that they knew there were no Decepticons around, and soft music played from his speakers. Prowl shook his head and followed, choosing not to voice his irritation over the lack of Decepticons. It was, after all, a good thing that they weren't there. He just wished this hadn't been a wasted trip.

"Y'wanna climb up an' get it, or shall I?" Jazz asked when they reached the spot where the cable attached to Jazz's grappling hook still hung down.

"I'll do it," Prowl said. "Might as well practice my climbing abilities while we have the opportunity."

"Alright," Jazz said, stepping back and giving Prowl room to climb. The tactician made it up quickly, and set about trying to free the grappling hook. In retrospect, Prowl supposed that he should've anticipated it. The ledge had been narrow already, and while it was sturdy when he first got up there, even rock could grow weak with a few tons of metal shifting about on it, trying to pry a two-foot grappling hook out of a crack that twice as many tons of metal, plus gravity, had wedged it into. Prowl, however, did not think of any of this until later, and so he was completely surprised when he suddenly felt the ledge give way underneath his feet, and the next thing he knew, he was tumbling down the cliff side, followed by a shower of rock.

Fortunately, the water at the bottom of the canyon wasn't all that deep, so Prowl didn't get swept down into the rapids. Unfortunately, the water at the bottom of the canyon wasn't all that deep, and Prowl hit the rocky bottom with a resounding _crash._ Even more unfortunately, Prowl landed on his back, which meant he also landed on his door wings. White-hot pain lanced through them, drowning out the pain from any other injuries caused by his fall, and an involuntary yelp escaped him. He barely even registered the remains of the ledge tumbling down around - and on - him as his systems screamed warnings about his door wings, and not for the first time, the thought crossed his processor that he was going to have to speak to Ratchet about altering his transformation sequence so that he didn't have them anymore.

"Prowl! Prowl, y'alright?!" Jazz's panicked voice was what eventually broke through the pain, and Prowl realized his optics had turned off at some point. He flipped them back on to find the saboteur hovering over him worriedly.

"I'll let you know as soon as you help me up," Prowl replied with a wince. The pain from his door wings was still excruciating, but chances were that once he was no longer putting pressure on them, it would subside to a level that he could block. So he grabbed Jazz's offered hand and used it to pull himself upright - only to gasp and have his optics shut down to avoid sensory overload as more pain lanced through his door wings. He waited for it to subside, but it didn't seem to want to, and emergency warnings for stasis lock flashed through his CPU. Ah, the wonders of door wings - perhaps the only appendage ever engineered that could send a mech or femme into stasis lock from the sheer amount of pain they could feel. It was no wonder that even Bluestreak had been heard to utter gruesome, Decepticon-worthy death threats against whatever engineer had come up with them.

Regardless, Prowl didn't really want to fall into stasis lock right here and worry Jazz unnecessarily. He wasn't reading any leaks in his energon or coolant lines, so it was likely just that his door wings had been jarred, dislocated, or dented severely. The first two Jazz could fix easily, while the second one would require the saboteur to manually deactivating the sensors in the door wings until they could get back to Ratchet and he could fix it. Since most of Prowl's sensor array was in his door wings, that would render him mostly blind when in vehicle form, but that could be dealt with. Until then, Prowl began throwing up as many firewalls as he could to block the pain, even writing a crappy little program to temporarily convince his systems that his door wings weren't part of him, so that they stopped giving him warnings and threatening to put him into stasis lock. It was crumbling fast as his logic processors found holes in the programming and slowly unravelled it, but it was holding enough for Prowl to turn his optics back on and look into Jazz's worried face.

"Door wings," Prowl got out thickly. "Jarred or dislocated. Might need to turn the sensors off."

"Oooh," Jazz said with a sympathetic wince, then he disappeared from Prowl's range of vision, and the tactician shut off his optics to reduce sensory input, waiting as Jazz inspected the damage. "Well, th'right one's definitely dislocated, but th'left one looks fine."

"Fix the right. Left might just be echoing," Prowl said briefly. It was unlikely, with the amount of pain his sensors were reading, but if the right one was fixed, he might be able to sort through the remaining pain signals to find the cause in his left.

"Alright. I'm sure I don't need ta tell ya that this'll hurt," Jazz said, sounding apologetic.

"Just do it," Prowl said, and there was a pause before Jazz did exactly that. Unfortunately, Prowl's little program trying to convince his systems that his door wings weren't part of him failed at the exact same moment, and with a cry, Prowl's systems went into an emergency stasis lock.

\---

Prowl woke to pain, which wasn't really surprising considering how he'd gone into stasis lock in the first place. The fact that he was still sitting upright, and still apparently sitting in the water at the bottom of the canyon, however, was surprising, and as his optics flickered on, he looked around for Jazz with a frown. The saboteur was evidently behind him, and an abrupt alert from his systems told him that Jazz had the access panel to his sensor array opened and was messing around with it.

"What are you doing?" Prowl asked, and there was a startled yelp from behind him. Support that he hadn't even been aware of suddenly disappeared with a splash, and Prowl would have fallen backwards onto his door wings if he hadn't reflexively reached out and braced himself.

"Slaggit!" Jazz cursed. "Give a mech a little warnin', will ya Prowl? I thought ya were in a stasis lock."

"I was, temporarily," Prowl stated. "My systems will pull me out of a stasis lock caused by sensory overload from my door wings once the sensory information has reduced to an acceptable level, however."

"Really? Didn't know that," Jazz commented, coming around to crouch beside Prowl.

"Then what were you doing?" Prowl asked curiously.

"I was gonna turn off th'sensors in yer door wings, since they were causin' so much trouble, an' then pull you outta stasis lock," Jazz replied with a shrug.

"Only medics can pull a mech out of stasis lock," Prowl said with a frown.

"Only medics an' me," Jazz corrected Prowl with a grin.

"Is this another one of those skills I don't want to know where or why you learned it?" Prowl asked with an arched optic ridge, and Jazz nodded, still grinning.

"So, do I still need ta deactivate th'sensors, or are ya good now?" the saboteur asked. Prowl experimentally 'felt' back along the sensors in his door wings and winced.

"You seem to have corrected most of the damage," he said.

"But...?" Jazz asked, frowning slightly.

"They're still a little painful," Prowl admitted. "That's likely just due to the stress put on them - what was wrong with the left one?"

"It was dislocated, too - I jus' didn't notice until I had th'other one t'compare it to," Jazz said with a brief chuckle, then stood and moved behind Prowl. There was a quiet click, and Prowl's systems stopped warning him about the open panel for his manual sensor array controls.

"Thank you," Prowl said, and was about to push himself upright when one of Jazz's hands suddenly came to rest in-between his door wings. Prowl froze, unable to move, as soft magnetic and sonic pulses began emanating from the saboteur's hand, washing over the injured joints. It was surprisingly soothing, and Prowl involuntarily arched into it, his door wings twitching slightly as the residual pain began ebbing away. Jazz let out a low chuckle, but didn't stop, which made Prowl a very happy mech as the last of the pain disappeared and he enjoyed the Cybertronian equivalent of a massage. Prowl was vaguely aware that his systems were practically purring as the pleasant magnetic and sonic waves washed over his door wing joints, but he didn't even notice when his optics turned themselves off because he wasn't paying any attention to their sensory input anyways.

He was abruptly brought back to the present when the 'massage' stopped and Jazz rose from behind him, though, making a great deal more noise than Prowl was sure was necessary, and bringing the tactician back to the less pleasant world around him. He became aware of the coldness of the water, and pushed himself upright as his ran a quick system scan to see what other injuries his fall had caused. It finished even before he turned to Jazz, reporting nothing but minor scrapes and dents to him - nothing Ratchet couldn't fix in a few minutes.

"Thank you," Prowl repeated to the saboteur, and Jazz nodded briefly, then motioned for Prowl to head out of the canyon first. The tactician frowned slightly at Jazz's unexpected silence, but was still too relaxed to worry much about it, and headed out, looking forward to leaving this canyon behind. Of course, to Prowl's extreme embarrassment, he got no more than a few steps before he stumbled, his co-ordination off from Jazz's 'massage'. The saboteur was by his side in a second, supporting him, and that was when Prowl felt the heat coming off the other mech in waves, and heard the revving of Jazz's systems.

Perhaps it was Prowl's relaxed state, allowing his processor to come up with ideas he never would have normally thought of, or perhaps it was the figurative straw that broke the camel’s back, as Prowl's processor found it could no longer deny that Jazz had been blatantly hitting on and flirting with him for the past...Prowl's processor skipped slightly as he came up with the time period of several thousand years. He looked over at Jazz incredulously, unable to believe he'd been _that_ dense for _that_ long, but at the same time, knew he had been. All the times he'd had the night shift and Jazz had wandered in with energon right when he was wanting some, despite the fact that the saboteur had a morning shift, he'd stupidly believed the excuse that Jazz just hadn't been able to recharge. He'd accepted Jazz's frequent invasions of his office, telling himself that the saboteur did it to everyone, even if he never heard any of the other officers complain about it. And everyone was always telling him he needed to 'lighten up', so why should Jazz badgering him to watch a human movie, or go to a concert either here or back on Cybertron, be taken as anything other than the mech trying to attempt what the others only told Prowl to do?

But then there were all the unidentifiable looks, the oddly worded phrases, the constant attempts to make Prowl laugh, and the fact that the last time Prowl could remember waking up in med bay without seeing Jazz there, waiting, was before they'd met. The signs were obvious, now that Prowl thought back on it, and he wondered if Smokescreen had a betting pool running on how long it would take him to notice. The stakes were probably ridiculously high by now if he did, and several of the bets were probably along the lines of 'when Jazz jumps him after too much High Grade'.

"Prowl?" Jazz asked, sounding worried, and Prowl realized he'd been staring at the saboteur for almost half a minute now. Poor Jazz was looking rather uncomfortable.

"Why didn't you _say_ anything?" Prowl blurted out, unable to stop himself, and Jazz stiffened, his expression dropping into one of shock, and a bit of fear, as he stared back at Prowl.

"I, uh -" the normally silver-tongued bot seemed to be at a loss for words, until his optics eventually settling on the hand he was still using to support Prowl, and he withdrew it hastily. He would've backed up, as well, but Prowl grabbed his wrist.

"I'm not angry, Jazz," Prowl said reassuringly, then added thoughtfully. "Well, maybe a little at myself for not noticing sooner. But I can be remarkably dense when it comes to these sorts of things."

"I'll say," Jazz said quietly, then gave Prowl a brief smile when the tactician looked at him. "I wasn't sure how ya'd react," Jazz finally answered Prowl's question with a shrug. "An' since I didn't wanna mess with th'friendship we already had..."

"You let your actions speak for you, and if I chose to ignore or was too dense to notice, you could live with that," Prowl concluded, and Jazz nodded, looking sheepish.

"So....what now?" Jazz asked after a few moments of silence.

"I'm...thinking," Prowl replied, letting his confusion be heard in his voice. He'd never really considered Jazz and a potential romantic partner, so the revelation that Jazz viewed him as such was throwing his processor for a loop. He wasn't exactly good at analyzing feelings, even his own, so it was taking some work to figure out, and in the process, he just seemed to be getting more and more confused about the whole situation. He felt his logic chips begin to protest, and with a sigh, he shut down the whole line of thought before his processor froze up.

"Well?" Jazz sounded vaguely amused, and Prowl gave him a light glare.

"You're the only mech I've ever met that can regularly freeze up my processor," the tactician said.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Jazz asked lightly, and Prowl was about to snap off a reply, only to stop as he realized what he was about to say.

"Huh. It's a good thing," he mused aloud, then looked over at Jazz, who looked back with a faint, but nervous, grin. It occurred to Prowl that he was still holding Jazz's wrist, and with a light tug, made the other mech stumble forward slightly until their chassis were nearly touching. Prowl hesitated for another instant, then released Jazz's wrist and brought his hands up to cup Jazz's face before leaning in and kissing the saboteur gently. Jazz had frozen when Prowl had tugged him forward, but melted into the kiss readily enough, his hands coming to rest on the tactician's hip armour. When Prowl pulled back, Jazz's smile was lop-sided and not a little dazed.

"Definitely a good thing," Prowl concluded, and decided that this trip had definitely not been wasted after all.


	2. Race You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sore door wings? What sore door wings? Oooh, THOSE sore door wings...

Prowl was amused. This was generally a common occurrence around Jazz, but this time it was a little different. Mostly because he didn't think he'd ever quite heard Jazz chatter quite so much. Prowl couldn't figure out if it was because the saboteur was nervous or just really really happy, but it was entertaining. Also entertaining was the looks they kept getting as they were driving, since Jazz refused to follow any more than a few inches behind Prowl. Actually, he'd gently nudge Prowl every once and awhile, as if to reassure himself that Prowl was still there.

_"Jazz,"_ Prowl finally interrupted the saboteur's babbling as they entered the last stretch of desert before the Ark.

_"Yeah?"_ Jazz replied.

_"You're tailgating me."_

_"And?"_ Jazz asked. _"Not like ya won't warn me if you're gonna stop, an' I have better reflexes than any human driver anyways."_

_"You should still follow the human laws when on their roads,"_ Prowl said.

_"We're not on their roads now,"_ Jazz replied.

_"We were."_

_"An' I can't help but notice that ya didn't comment on my tailgatin' until now,"_ Jazz said. _"Don't want Sideswipe to see ya lettin' me get away with breaking laws or somethin'?"_ There was a heavy silence, and Prowl didn't need anyone to tell him that Jazz's question had a lot more meaning behind it than there seemed to be at first.

_"Not until he understands why_ you _can get away with it and_ he _can't,"_ Prowl replied after a moment’s thought, pulling off to the side and dropping back beside Jazz to give the saboteur a gentle nudge. It was a little difficult to do at their speeds, but not impossible, and Jazz nudged back equally carefully, saying a silent thanks for the reassurance. Satisfied that he'd made his point, Prowl picked up speed to pull ahead again, but Jazz sped up to match, refusing to let him pass. When Prowl obliging slowed down, thinking Jazz didn't want him to go ahead, Jazz kept going, even speeding up and swerving a bit, his entire manner taunting Prowl.

_"Just because I'll let you tailgate does not mean I'll race you,"_ Prowl said irritably.

_"Awww, come on! It's a good few hundred miles until th'Ark, an' chances are Sides an'Smokey are at th'other end of their patrol right now,"_ Jazz said playfully, weaving back and forth in front of Prowl, then dropping back to the tacticians side only to speed up again and start doing the same thing all over again.

_"No,"_ Prowl refused stubbornly.

_"I'll even go easy on ya - I know y'don't have the same horsepower in that Earth model as I do,"_ Jazz said.

_"I have exactly the same 'horsepower' in this model as I did back on Cybertron,"_ Prowl informed Jazz.

_"As if. We all took hits to our speed when we adopted Earth alternate forms,"_ Jazz said with a chuckle. _"If you're not mech enough to admit it..."_

_"Haven't you learned by now that you can't bait me, Jazz?"_ Prowl asked curiously.

_"I think we've established that I don't know when to give up,"_ Jazz said with a snicker.

_"Fortunately for us both,"_ Prowl replied softly. There was a murmur of agreement from Jazz, and the Porsche dropped back beside Prowl. They drove in silence for a little while longer, until Prowl suddenly revved his engine and pulled ahead slightly. Jazz didn't match his speed right away, so he dropped back and tried again.

_"Prowl?"_ Jazz asked, his confusion evident.

_"I thought you wanted a race?"_ Prowl replied. The tactician wasn't entirely sure why he was doing this, but perhaps it was due to the surprisingly good day he'd had, despite missing the chess tournament and falling down a cliff and landing on his door wings. Either way, he was glad he did, as Jazz let out a happy whoop as he accelerated, and Prowl took after him, determined to show Jazz just how little of his speed he'd lost.

Which was how the gaping Sideswipe and Smokescreen discovered that Prowl was actually _faster_ than Jazz when he put his mind to it, as the Datsun flew past them so quickly that they barely recognized him, followed a few moments later by Jazz. The two vehicles skipped to a halt a good fifty meters away, Prowl transforming even before he stopped, and he turned to give the two patrolling mechs a piercing look.

"You never saw that," Prowl said finally.

"Saw what sir?" Sideswipe answered on reflex, and with a nod, Prowl transformed again and took off at a more law-abiding pace, Jazz close behind. When the two reached the Ark, by some mutual agreement, neither transformed, taking a lesser-used route through the Ark to the living quarters, where Prowl transformed long enough to key the door for his, Jazz zooming in right behind him. As soon as the door was closed, Jazz transformed and collapsed on the floor, laughing hysterically.

_"Primus,_ did you _see_ th'look on Sides' face?!" the saboteur managed to get out amongst his laughter.

"And saved it to my databanks for later transfer to Teletraan's main drive," Prowl replied with a light chuckle. "I don't think I've ever seen him quite that...stunned."

"I don't blame him, I had no _idea_ you could go that fast," Jazz said, still snickering.

"Law-enforcers _do_ have to be able to _catch_ the law-breakers," Prowl pointed out.

"Well, yeah, but still," Jazz said, waving a hand vaguely through the air as the last of his laughter died. "You were almost matchin' my speed back on Cybertron, if ya account for th'environmental differences." Prowl shrugged.

"Just because I can, doesn't mean I do," the tactician replied, then bounced slightly on his feet, glancing around his quarters. "Besides, all that speed tends to get me a bit...jittery."

"Jittery?" Jazz said with amusement.

"My systems get used to running at that speed, and I find it difficult to calm down afterwards," Prowl said dismissively. "It's easier to just avoid the whole problem."

"You get high from racing," Jazz said after a moment.

"I didn't say _that,"_ Prowl said with irritation.

"No, but y'look it," Jazz said with a wide grin, leaning back on the floor and looking Prowl up and down. The tactician couldn't seem to stand still, his hands and door wings twitching, gaze moving restlessly about the room, and shifting his weight from one foot to the other and back again. It only got worse as Prowl apparently got self-conscious about having Jazz looking at him, until finally he let out a sound of frustration and stomped over to the chair in the room and flopped down heavily.

Jazz had been surprised the first time he'd seen inside Prowl's quarters - he'd expected a desk with as much work on it as the one in Prowl's office, but strangely the other mech seemed to have a strict policy of keeping his work out of his quarters. There was the recharge berth, a chair, a basic data terminal, and two shelves of data pads and some human books, plus a (relatively) small television, but no desk, and all the data pads contained novels or other recreational reading. Somewhere on the shelves, Prowl even had a collection of Cybertronian music. Still, he was distinctly lacking in places for visitors to sit, so Jazz remained on the floor, simply pushing himself around to watch with amusement as Prowl attempted to sit still in the chair. He wasn't doing so well.

"You're worse than Blurr when someone orders him t'hold still," Jazz commented after watching for a few amused moments.

"And whose fault is that?" Prowl asked irritably.

"You're th'one who agreed ta race me!" Jazz replied with a grin.

"You still made the challenge first," Prowl retorted, then held out his hand in front of himself and sighed as he watched it twitch involuntarily. "I think I may have to delay giving Prime my report until tomorrow."

"You're _that_ jacked up after a simple race?" Jazz asked in surprise, and Prowl gave the saboteur a slightly irritated look.

"That and other things," he said, and Jazz grinned smugly before an idea occurred to him, and he pushed himself to his feet, heading towards Prowl. The tactician tensed as Jazz slipped behind the chair, leaning forward as if he was going to get up, and Jazz grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back, mindful of the other mech's door wings. "What are you doing?" Prowl asked uneasily.

"Y'don't like havin' someone behind you, do ya?" Jazz asked with amusement.

"Get Ratchet to give you door wings. Then go into a crowded room. After that, you'll hate having people behind you, too," Prowl replied grumpily.

"Ah," Jazz said understandingly. "Well y'don't have t'worry about me. I ain't gonna hurt your door wings."

"I know that, it's just -" Prowl stopped short as Jazz slid his hands down from the tactician's shoulders to rest right above his door wings and began sending alternating sonic and magnetic pulses through his palms. "What -"

"This seemed to relax ya earlier, an' it seemed like you could use a little relaxation now," Jazz replied easily, and Prowl relaxed slightly under his touch.

"I suppose I could, at that," Prowl admitted, sounding amused. "How can you even do that? I wasn't aware your abilities were that fine-tuned."

"A little practice and any ability can be this 'fine-tuned'," Jazz replied, deciding not to go into the story of how and why he'd had to perfect his abilities to this degree, since Prowl was already relaxing under his touch, his systems slowing audibly. About the time Prowl's optics turned themselves off again, Jazz decided to experiment a little, and began moving his hands gently along the tactician's back. Prowl obligingly leaned forward a little so Jazz could reach some lower spots, and Jazz chuckled as Prowl's systems literally began purring.

Feeling a little more daring, Jazz moved one hand up to run it along the top of one door wing, and the reaction was unexpected and immediate. Prowl's optics snapped on as he gasped, his entire body stiffening. Jazz withdrew his hand instantly, wincing.

"Sorry, did I hurt ya?" he asked apologetically.

"No," Prowl said, his voice unexpectedly deep, and the look he gave Jazz over his shoulder could only be described as 'smoldering'. Jazz felt his systems rev at that look, and without thinking about it, brought his hand back to Prowl's door wing, strengthening the pulses slightly as he outlined the edges of the wing. Prowl's optic's flared white with a sudden surge of energy, and he moaned, the sound barely heard above the sudden revving of his own systems. Jazz grinned, then removed his other hand from Prowl's back to give the other door wing the same treatment, keeping his optics locked on Prowl's as his first hand simply rested in the middle of the door wing and sent out gentle pulses.

Prowl was almost quivering with tenseness now, his systems frantically cycled air and coolant in an attempt to keep the sudden surges of energy brought on by the pleasant sensations from sending him into overload. Jazz, smirking, continued to caress Prowl's door wings with both his hands and magnetic and sonic pulses, then carefully leaned in until his face was inches from Prowl's.

"Feel good?" he asked in a whisper, then tentatively kissed the other mech. Prowl responded readily, and Jazz found himself moaning as he discovered that Prowl was, in fact, a really really excellent kisser. The tactician had a way of making a kiss about ten time more sensual than should be legal, and it almost threatened to send Jazz into overload right then and there. Prowl apparently knew it, too, as when Jazz managed to pull away, the tactician took advantage of Jazz's dazed state to stand from the chair, grabbing Jazz's hands and guiding him around, pulling him close until they were chassis to chassis, and then kissed him again. Prowl's hands slipped around Jazz's waist, catching him as his processor failed to continue to tell his legs to support him, and the tactician chuckled deeply as he pulled away, beginning to nibble and kiss down Jazz's jaw and neck, then following armour seams along his shoulder before working his way back up.

"That answer your question?" Prowl asked huskily before kissing Jazz once again, and this time the saboteur managed to keep some coherency.

"Yeah, I think so," he said as his systems frantically cycled air.

"Good. I wouldn't want you to think your efforts to help me relax weren't successful, not when I could very, very... _very_...much get used to getting help...relaxing...in this manner," Prowl murmured, sprinkling light kisses across Jazz's face as he spoke, and the saboteur was momentarily distracted by the sensation before Prowl's words sunk in, and he gave the tactician a lop-sided grin.

"If this is the thanks I get, I'll always be happy to oblige," he said.

"Thanks? No, this is just to let you know how good a job you're doing. I haven't gotten to 'thanks' yet," Prowl replied almost absently, and Jazz would've blinked if he could've. Then one of Prowl's hands left his waist to run along a very sensitive armour seam, and he moaned.

Even afterwards, Jazz could never figure out how they got to the berth, only noticing that, suddenly, he was there and on his back, Prowl leaning over him and apparently trying to kiss and nibble as much of Jazz as he could. Jazz tolerated this for a few minutes, but he wanted Prowl's wonderful mouth up _here,_ kissing _his_ mouth, and so he activated the magnetic and sonic pulse emitters in one hand and ran it along what he could reach of one of Prowl's door wings. The tactician moaned, and was entirely amenable to Jazz pulling him up for a searing kiss, which both of them came away from with systems furiously cycling air, warnings flashing about imminent overloads.

"I think it’s safe to say that your door wings' sensitivity has _some_ perks," Jazz said after a short time, and Prowl murmured an agreement from where his head was resting against Jazz's shoulder.

"Almost makes me not want them gone, and maybe even wish that more mechs had them," Prowl said after another pause, and Jazz shivered suddenly as he realized Prowl's mouth was resting next to the base of one of his helm's horns. The movement of air from Prowl's speech sent some very...nice sensations through the overly sensitive horn, and when the tactician raised his head to give him a quizzical look, Jazz couldn't help but supply the reason.

"Some of us have other parts that are just as sensitive, if not as big," Jazz said, feeling inexplicably embarrassed, though that was entirely forgotten when Prowl arched an optic ridge and brought a hand up to caress one of Jazz's horns. Jazz suspected, judging from Prowl's satisfied look, that he looked something similar to how Prowl himself had looked not long ago when Jazz had first 'massaged' his door wings. He didn't particularly care, as Prowl's so-talented-it-must-be-illegal mouth followed the example of his hand, only on the other horn. Systems flashed warnings at him, but Jazz summoned the willpower to hold back the threatening overload, reaching up with one hand to bring Prowl down for a fierce kiss, while the other returned to the tactician's door wings.

Prowl's door wings were perhaps a little more sensitive, or perhaps he just had a little less control after the race, but he didn't hold back his overload, crying out as energy surged through him, and Jazz watched his face with fascination as all of Prowl's carefully built shields to hide his emotions from the outside world came crashing down. Nothing was left but pure and simple Prowl as the overload tumbled through his systems, and Jazz knew then that every single moment he'd spent chasing after Prowl had been totally and completely worth it. That thought stayed with him even as Prowl collapsed against him, either temporarily offline or still recovering from the overload, and Jazz hugged the tactician too him tightly.

"You," Prowl murmured after a moment, not even bothering to move, "Are deadly with those hands."

"So I've been told. Though I don't think anyone has ever meant it quite th'same way as you do," Jazz said with a smirk, aware of his own systems still revving furiously as vibrations from Prowl's voice sent surges of energy along his horn on that side.

"I should hope not," Prowl stated, raising his head and giving Jazz a heated look, then leaned in for a deep kiss. One of his hands began to wander, but apparently he had noticed that Jazz hadn't overloaded, as well, and he seemed to be seeking out every sensitive spot he could reach, until finally his hand came back to Jazz's helm, caressing the edges and making its way oh-so-slowly up to the horn. The Prowl's mouth left Jazz's, and then Prowl was saying something right next to Jazz's audio. Jazz had no idea what the tactician was saying, only that the voice he was saying it in was a _perfect_ pitch and tone, and the hands on his horn was doing wonderful things, and...Jazz's overload hit him almost by surprise, he was so focused on the sensations and not the reactions they were causing. He clung to Prowl as the overload surged through him, and some part of his processor noticed that Prowl hadn't stopped talking, which just somehow made it just that much _better,_ even though it was already better than any other overload he'd ever had. In fact, he was pretty sure it was the only overload he'd ever had that offlined him, even if only for a few moments, as his systems crashed for a bit from all the excess energy.

"You..." Jazz got no farther than that as whatever thought he'd had disappeared into the scrambled mess that was his processor currently.

"What about me?" Prowl asked with a teasing tone in his voice, then leaned down and kissed Jazz gently. The saboteur smiled into the kiss, letting him hands trail up to rest under Prowl's door wings, where he absently caressed the armour, occasionally daring to brush past the joints. Prowl twitched every time he did that, until he suddenly stiffened, door wings rising in such a way that Jazz couldn't reach them anymore, and the tactician pulled away, and closed expression on his face.

"Something wrong?" Jazz asked curiously.

"Ah - as nice as your massages are..." Prowl said with a grimace. "I _did_ land on my door wings earlier." He gave Jazz an apologetic look, and the saboteur grinned reassuringly.

"Hey, no problem. I completely understand. Besides, Teletraan would have recorded our return, so Prime probably knows we're back by now," Jazz said. "I take it you've calmed down enough ta give him your report?" Prowl gave Jazz an unamused look at the light teasing, then smiled slightly.

"I think all my excess energy has been sufficiently used up," the tactician said, then pushed himself up and over, moving so that he ended up sitting on the side of the berth. He glanced down as Jazz stretched fully, then relaxed on the berth with his hands behind his head.

"Yer berth is surprisingly comfy," Jazz commented.

"Possibly because it's _my_ berth," Prowl commented dryly, then leaned down and kissed Jazz briefly before adding in a low tone, "Actually, it even looks more comfortable to me, with you laying there." Jazz shuddered slightly at the tone of voice Prowl used, only to give the tactician a mild glare when he not only pulled away, but stood up. "You have a report to make as well, if you didn't remember."

"I'll write it while Ratchet takes a look at ya," Jazz said, getting off the berth and to his feet in one graceful movement. It was a pity Prowl's back was to him, the tactician might've appreciated the display. Prowl apparently needed to compose himself a bit before facing the rest of the Ark, though, so that when he turned back to Jazz and motioned for the saboteur to leave first, all those walls that had come down during his overload had returned, and he was Prowl, the Autobot's second-in-command again. Jazz wasn't disappointed, however - in fact, he looked forward to working past those walls again and again and again...


	3. Push

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you just have to get out and push...or let someone else do the pushing, and then sit back and enjoy the gossip.

The knock on his office door made Optimus pause in his paperwork, and he quickly straightened the inevitable mess he made doing it before calling for whoever it was to enter.

"What can I do for you, Ratchet?" he asked pleasantly as his CMO stepped inside.

"Medical report for Prowl and Jazz's mission," Ratchet said, handing him a datapad. Optimus took it and scanned through quickly.

"His door wings?" Optimus sounded amused. "How did he do that? He's normally so careful of them."

"Didn't they report to you already?" Ratchet asked in surprise, and Optimus shook his head. "But...Teletraan recorded their return a full hour before they showed up in the med bay. And Prowl never waits to get to the med bay when his door wings are injured."

"Indeed," Optimus mused. "I suppose their mission succeeded, then."

"Actually, they mentioned that there wasn't a single Decepticon around, sir," Ratchet said with a frown.

"Is that so," Optimus deadpanned, and Ratchet gave his commander a suspicious look.

"You're a very sneaky Prime, aren't you?" the CMO finally asked.

"No, I'm a Prime that won't have to put up with watching his two senior officers dance around each other anymore. Or explain to homophobic human dignitaries that no, my third-in-command is NOT flirting with my second-in-command, no matter what it looks like," Optimus replied promptly.

"Oh, right, my mistake. Sorry sir," Ratchet said with a chuckle.

"We all make mistakes every once and awhile, Ratchet," Optimus said loftily. "You'd better get back to med-bay, though. Sideswipe and Smokescreen are due back from patrol soon."

"Slag," Ratchet said with a grimace as he turned to go.

"Oh, Ratchet?" Optimus called just as the CMO was heading out the door, and Ratchet turned to give his commander a quizzical look. "Tell Smokescreen to remind Cliffjumper that the name of the organization is the U.S. Chess Trust." Ratchet's optic ridges shot up, and he gave Optimus an amused look, then nodded and left.

\---

"Ratchet! You're not going to _believe_ what happened while we were on patrol!" Sideswipe pounced on Ratchet the moment he entered his med bay, while Smokescreen stood back, managing to look a little sheepish.

"Does it have anything to do with why both of you are covered in dings and scratches?" Ratchet asked with a scowl as he looked them both over, then motioned for them to get up on the berths. Smokescreen complied readily, while Sideswipe did so only until Ratchet walked away, at which point he began following the medic.

"What?" Sideswipe asked, then seemed to only then remember why he was in the med bay. "Oh no, that was from when we lost control and fell into a ravine. Mostly Smokey’s fault, he's not used to travelling at fast speeds. But that's what I wanted to talk to you about!"

"I thought you just said - get up on the berth and stay there Sideswipe, or I _will_ weld your aft to it - I thought you said that these weren't from what you wanted to tell me?" Ratchet asked grouchily as he gathered his tools and pushed Sideswipe back to the berth.

"Only indirectly," Smokescreen put in. "We wanted to see if all Datsun models could go that fast or if it was only Prowl."

"Prowl?" Ratchet said, instantly amused, as he eyed up the two mechs, debating which one to fix first.

"Yeah, you should've _seen_ it Ratchet!" Sideswipe practically squealed, and Ratchet decided to fix up the red twin first, so he could shove him the slag out of his med bay before he broke something in his current state of enthusiasm.

"You know Sideswipe, Prowl _did_ say not to say anything," Smokescreen said slowly.

"Frag what Prowl says," Sideswipe said dismissively, then turned to watch as Ratchet began working out the dents and dings in his armour. "Anyways. Smokey and I were on our patrol, just mind our own business, when suddenly we see this dust cloud heading our way. We were good little patrol mechs and scanned it for any possible hostiles, and to our surprise, the cloud seems to be emanating from Jazz and Prowl who are going _really really fast._ Jazz and _Prowl."_ Sideswipe put emphasis on the tactician's name just to make sure Ratchet had heard it.

"I heard you the first time, Sideswipe," Ratchet grunted.

"Yeah, well, thing is, they weren't being chased by anyone. We checked twice," Sideswipe said. "And then they got nearer, and we realized - they were _racing._ But that's not the best part."

"And just what is the 'best part'?" Ratchet asked dryly as he moved to Sideswipe's other side. It came out as a disinterested 'I'm-just-asking-because-I-know-you're-going-to-tell-me-anyways' comment, but the CMO was actually interested at this point. He couldn't help it - he was a bit of a sucker for gossip like this. It helped him feel better about his work, to know that people were having fun after he fixed them up. Now, having fun _before_ he had to fix them up, that was a different matter.

"You know Jazz's top speed?" Sideswipe asked, and Ratchet just gave the twin a look. "Right, of course you do. But, did you know that Prowl is _faster?"_ Ratchet paused, glancing up in surprise for a moment, then frowned as he considered.

"I suppose that makes sense. On the whole, Datsun models wouldn't be as fast as a Porsche, but every bot makes modifications to their systems over their lifetime, and Prowl has always been focused on quickness and agility in body as well as mind," the medic said, and Sideswipe paused himself.

"Actually, yeah, that does make sense," the red twin agreed. "But yeah. So. Prowl evidently won, and then he comes to this sliding halt not far from us, transforms and goes 'you didn't see this', and then drives away. Didn't say anything else."

"And then you and Smokey decided to recreate the race?" Ratchet asked dryly.

"Well, yes, and Smokey can't go as fast, nor is he as good at control -"

"Hey, I'm used to sliding all over the place! It's what saves my aft in combat more often than not!" Smokescreen said in his own defence.

"We just finished concluding that Prowl's made modification anyways, Smokey," Sideswipe said almost disdainfully. Smokescreen made a noise of annoyance, and Ratchet stopped the inevitable bickering by stepping away from Sideswipe, having finished fixing him up.

"There. You're done. Hoist can help fix your paint, he's in the body shop already, being bothered by your brother. I suggest you go save him," Ratchet said.

"Thanks Ratch!" Sideswipe said cheerily. "See you around Smokey!" It was about the only time Ratchet saw one of the twins willingly, and quickly, leave his med bay when told to do so. The medic shook his head - the entire Ark would probably know of Prowl and Jazz's little race by the end of the night. Though Sideswipe might inevitably find his gossip overshadowed after Ratchet passed on Prime's message to Smokescreen. Speaking of that...

"Smokescreen, have you ever heard of the U.S. Chess Trust?" the medic asked casually as he turned to begin fixing the Datsun. Smokescreen winced slightly.

"Ah - yes, I have. Why do you ask?" he asked.

"Prime said to tell you to remind Cliffjumper of the name," Ratchet replied easily.

"Cliffjumper..." Smokescreen trailed off with a frown, his optics dimming slightly as he dug through his databanks. Ratchet stood back and waited for the inevitable reaction, and grinned faintly as Smokescreen jerked violently and stared at the medic in stunned surprise for a second before starting to laugh. "That explains completely!" he said amidst his laughter.

"Dare I ask how and why Prime has gotten his giant fingers into your betting pools?" Ratchet asked as Smokescreen calmed down enough for the medic to continue working. Smokescreen shifted a little uncomfortably at that.

"Ah - well, remember when Prime, Bumblebee, Inferno and I got captured on our way back from the planet of giants? And I got free? And then used them for collateral against a bet...and I lost..." the Datsun said nervously.

"I seem to remember the lecture you received afterwards. I think half the Ark heard it, with the volumes Prime used," Ratchet said with amusement.

"Heh, yeah, well, after that lecture, he essentially demanded that I start putting my gambling tendencies to good use, and now whoever wins one of my bets has to donate an amount of time or money equivalent to half their winnings to a specific charity, decided upon by Prime. Unless it's a really small bet, in which case it's fine," Smokescreen explained in a rush, then added with amusement. "This particular pool, however, has been going since before we got to earth, and is quite large."

"How did Cliffjumper win, anyways?" Ratchet asked curiously. "Just time-wise?"

"No, his bet was 'when Prime gives them a kick in their afts'," Smokescreen said with a grin, and Ratchet chuckled.

"Smart mini-bot," the medic said.

"Of course, a few others also won partly, since Sunstreaker made a bet that it would happen on a mission...though would it really qualify for a mission if Optimus set it up just to kick them in the afts?" Smokescreen considered.

"It wasn't really a mission from the sounds of it - Optimus knew there were no Decepticons there," Ratchet offered helpfully.

"Hmm. But then, do I even want to try saying no to Sunstreaker?" Smokescreen mused. Ratchet just shook his head, refusing to get involved in Smokescreen's decision over who won what, and concentrated on fixing the bot.


	4. Wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beware of Jazz when he discovers a new toy - especially if that new toy is a part of you.

When Jazz entered the rec room that night, it was to complete and utter silence. It was so startling that he actually froze, right in the doorway, as he tried to comprehend what was going on. Then he spotted Smokescreen and Sideswipe at the center of it all, and understood. A wide grin split his face.

"So who won?" he asked.

"We're trying to figure that out," Smokescreen replied. "Maybe you can help."

"I suppose I could try," Jazz said casually, getting a cube of energon before joining Smokescreen and Sideswipe. "What's th'problem?"

"We're trying to decide whether or not your mission is classified as a mission, considering Prime set it up -" Smokescreen began, only to be stopped by a small noise from Jazz. That was the point at which the mechs in the room realized that Jazz hadn't known he and Prowl had been set up.

"Hey, it's not my fault I'm not used t'him bein' sneaky!" Jazz said defensively above the laughter. "Not like he's ever done it before!"

"Yeah, but, you're a _saboteur._ Aren't you supposed to notice things like that?" Brawn asked. Wordlessly, Jazz pointed to Mirage.

"He's right, that is technically a spy's job," Mirage said lightly. "Or a security officer's." Gazes shifted to Inferno, and the big red mech shrugged.

"I was sort of wondering why he wasn't going into a conniption over the two of them going on a mission together," he said. Jazz just shook his head and laughed.

"Well, even though it was all apparently a set-up, we treated it like a real mission, so I'd say it was one," the saboteur said.

"So that means I win!" Sunstreaker declared.

"Half of the winnings, Sunstreaker. Not all," Smokescreen agreed, seeming relieved. "Which only leaves the pool over the time frame. Which is a bit of a problem."

"Oh?" Jazz asked curiously. "No one bet on right now?"

"Well, someone did, but..." Smokescreen shrugged. "They're dead."

"Ooooh, ouch," Jazz said.

"Hound is the closest after that," Smokescreen said. "But was a few hundred years too early."

"We were in stasis a few hundred years ago," Jazz pointed out.

"Jazz, this pool has been going for over 6 million years," Smokescreen said patiently.

"6 million? I haven't even been interested in Prowl that long," Jazz said blankly.

"Just because you weren't interested doesn't mean the rest of us couldn't see it coming," Bumblebee said with a laugh.

"It was pretty inevitable from the moment you two met, man," Beachcomber said with a relaxed grin. "Bickering like you were even as you were agreeing with each other."

"Heh. I forgot you were there for our first meeting," Jazz said, grinning slightly as he recalled the first time he'd met Prowl. Oddly enough, Beachcomber had been their superior at that time. If he'd guessed what was going to happen right from the beginning, that might actually explain why he'd always been grinning around them, not to mention pairing them up for missions. And why he eventually recommended them for promotions at the same time.

"Yeah man, it was entertaining. My own personal soap opera," Beachcomber said with a wide grin. "Was sad to see ya go, especially once I got those two misfits as replacements." The mini-bot jerked his thumb in the direction of the twins, who immediately protested. The attention of the gathered bots quickly turned from Jazz to the twins and Beachcomber, and the saboteur let it go. Smokescreen, meanwhile, went to the three winning bots - apparently deciding that Hound had been close enough - and made arrangements, while Jazz sat and drank his energon, watching with amusement. Eventually, Smokescreen made his way back to Jazz, sitting next to the saboteur.

"You've probably already guessed this, but just so you know - door wings are incredibly sensitive," Smokescreen said casually.

"I had discovered that," Jazz said with a grin.

"Sensitive enough to overload from just having them manipulated," Smokescreen elaborated, turning to Jazz and quirking an optic ridge upwards.

"Really now..." Jazz said with interest, and Smokescreen nodded, grinning widely.

"Makes for some really nice overloads, too," he said, a slightly dreamy smile on his face as he evidently recalled a few overloads he'd received that way. "With how little Prowl's been getting over the years, you could probably knock him offline for a little while."

"Hum. Interesting theory," Jazz replied.

"Of course, with how sensitive they are, you usually have to convince a mech with door wings to let you touch them. Or make sure they're so distracted when you start that by the time they notice they're too worked up to object," Smokescreen added.

"Know this from personal experience I take it?" Jazz inquired with amusement, and Smokescreen flashed him a grin.

"Oh definitely," he said. "Plus, Bluestreak didn't exactly feel comfortable going to talk to Prowl about his first experiences with someone touching his door wings in that particular manner."

"Yeah, I can see why he wouldn't," Jazz said with a light snicker. The two mechs sat in companionable silence for a few moments as Jazz finished his energon, then stood and tossed the empty cube in the recycling chamber, before thanking Smokescreen and heading for the door.

"Hey Jazz, aren't you going to stick around? We're thinking of having a party," Sideswipe called out when he noticed Jazz was leaving.

"Nah, I think I'm gonna go spend some time with Prowl," the saboteur said, his smirk letting the gathered bots know exactly what he intended to spend that time doing. There was laughter all around as he left, but once he was gone, Bumblebee suddenly spoke up.

"Hey, isn't Prowl on duty tonight?" the yellow mini-bot asked with a frown.

"Exactly," Smokescreen said from where he was still sitting, looking smug. Many of the mechs looked confused at that, but those of them that had experience with lovers who had door wings grinned widely in understanding, then called 'not it' for taking Prowl's shift later. They left the others confused as to just why Prowl wouldn't be able to finish his shift.

\---

A mech had once asked Prowl, long ago while he and Prowl had been pinned down by Decepticons, what Prowl would ask for if he could ask Primus for anything in the universe, besides an end to the war. After an argument about how it was illogical to even contemplate it, Prowl had replied that he'd ask to have history altered so that door wings had never been invented as part of Cybertronian physiology. The other mech had laughed at that, not truly understanding, and Prowl hadn't had the time to explain as the Decepticons had finally found them. Fortunately, Autobot back-up was close behind, but not close enough to save the other mech. Prowl had been left with a vague sense of...disappointment over not being able to explain his answer, but nothing lasting.

The answer to the question had remained the same, however, even if the reason why had changed recently.

"Jazz, what are you doing?" Prowl asked stiffly, trying to focus on the screen in front of him and ignore the pleasant sensations Jazz's hands were causing in his door wings.

"Reading," Jazz replied almost absently, and Prowl risked a glance up at the saboteur standing behind his chair to find that Jazz was, in fact, apparently reading the data on Prowl's screen. This was highly suspicious, however, as Prowl was reading up on human combat tactics and strategies for opposing forces of fairly large sizes, which Jazz had very little use for. Also, Prowl refused to believe that the caresses along his door wings were casual.

"I am on duty, Jazz," Prowl said after he read the same sentence twice without it registering in his processor.

"Can't a mech decide ta come keep you company?" Jazz asked, and Prowl refused to look up and see the pout the saboteur was undoubtedly giving him.

"Company is one thing," Prowl replied irritably. "What you're currently doing is another."

"What, reading?" Jazz asked innocently.

 _"Besides_ reading, if you even are doing that," Prowl answered, trying to sound annoyed but having it come out as more of a purr as he involuntarily arched into the saboteur's touch.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jazz said, turning his attention back to the screen.

 _"Jazz._ I'm _on duty,"_ Prowl said stiffly, trying desperately to calm his systems as a light magnetic field joined Jazz's hands on his door wings.

"How is it that communications duty for ya translates into reading 'bout tactics, anyways?" Jazz mused.

"The same way it translates into looking up music and buying concert tickets for you," Prowl replied without much rancor, his systems now purring happily over Jazz's hands on his wings.

"Heh, yeah, I suppose yer right," Jazz replied, keeping his optics on the screen. Prowl's own optics sent his processor a confirmation message for shut-down, since their data kept being ignored, and that brought Prowl back to the control room. He jerked his wings away from Jazz's hands and focused determinedly on the screen in front of him, enacting several little-used protocols to force his systems to calm down. They fell apart when Jazz's hands returned to his door wings again, this time with a stronger magnetic field, and accompanied by a sonic pulse. Prowl whimpered, turning his optics off as the sensors in his wings bombarded him with information about just how good that felt.

"Stop it, please," Prowl managed to get out after a moment, and he cringed at how weak his voice was.

"Stop what?" Jazz purred in Prowl's audio, and that caused the tactician to summon the will to turn his optics back on and glare at Jazz.

"Stop fondling my door wings while I am on duty, _please,"_ Prowl growled.

"Was I fondling your door wings?" Jazz asked innocently, and then a strong sonic pulse came from his hands, and Prowl gasped, his will to make Jazz stop evaporating instantly. Duty be slagged. No one yet had been able to stop Jazz when he had his mind set on something, and Prowl wasn't exactly on the best footing to try and be the first. Jazz could let Prowl know if something came up.

With that decided, Prowl relaxed into Jazz's touch, his systems purring away happily. A part of his processor began counting down the time until his shift ended, at which point he could drag Jazz off to his quarters and jump the saboteur. The rest of Prowl was lost in a haze of pleasant sensory information, leaving the tactician with a rather embarrassingly goofy smile on his face as Jazz's hands continued their caresses.

Then there came a new sensation, and Prowl was forced to focus himself and try to figure out what it was. This was difficult, since it was adding even more sensation to his door wings, and was actually pushing him past a pleasant haze and towards an overload. Prowl gasped as he felt it again, losing most of the focus he'd just gained, and heard a low laugh from Jazz.

"They really _are_ sensitive, aren't they?" the saboteur said in a low voice from behind Prowl, and Prowl whimpered in reply as the sensation came again.

"What are you _doing?"_ Prowl gasped as he attempted to recover, systems revving beyond pleasure and into overload territory. Preliminary warnings were already beginning to flash through his processor, though they were mostly ignored.

"Experimenting. Investigating. Playing." Jazz replied enigmatically. "Does it feel good?"

"What the slag do you think?!" Prowl growled, only to whimper as something almost unbearably cold washed over his left door wing, only to be followed by a wonderful wave of heat. It was incredibly erotic, and when the same thing happened to his other door wing, Prowl became very glad he was already sitting down, since he didn't think his processor could actually process anything beyond the sensory input from his door wings at this point.

"I think that I'm going to enjoy your door wings a lot." Jazz said in Prowl's audio, his lust clear in his voice, and Prowl had the presence of mind to reach up and grab the saboteur's helm, turning to engage Jazz in a fierce kiss. He was pretty sure the slagger laughed into the kiss, but he didn't care, as Jazz did _something_ to the magnetic field and sonic pulses he was emitting, and Prowl's systems went into blessed overload, taking Prowl’s consciousness with it.

\---

Prowl onlined his optics the instant his sensors told him he was horizontal, and he looked around in surprise to find himself laying on the recharge berth in his quarters. A small sound made him look behind himself on the berth, and he found Jazz sprawled there, looking at him smugly.

"What happened?" Prowl asked slowly, not entirely sure he wanted to know.

"You went off-line when you overloaded. Prime came in ta check up on ya not long after, an' since you were still out, I told 'im you'd been working yourself too hard lately, an' it had obviously caught up with you. He called Cliffjumper to take your shift an' I got ta carry you back here," Jazz replied, grinning widely.

"When I - Prime - you -" Prowl was unable to come up with a suitable response, staring at the saboteur in disbelief.

"Course, on th'way out, Prime told me he'd rather I let ya finish your shift from now on," Jazz said thoughtfully. "Unless you really are workin' to hard, in which case he said I have his permission an' support to convince you t'get some recharge." Prowl stared at the saboteur for a moment longer, then pushed himself up out of his berth. "Hey, where are you goin'?"

"To see if whoever's on duty in med bay will remove my door wings," Prowl replied as he headed for the door.

"Oi, wait a minute!" Jazz called after the tactician, scrambling up from the berth and following as Prowl exited. Unseen by the saboteur, Prowl grinned and hoped that First Aid wouldn't end up too confused by the visit he was about to get.


	5. Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jazz learns that Optimus Prime isn't the only sneaky superior officer he has.

Jazz woke with a groan, feeling as if every circuit in his back hurt. It made him glad that he was laying on his side instead, even if he normally found such a position to be oddly uncomfortable.

"Oh good, you're awake. Don't try to sit up," Ratchet said from behind Jazz, and there was a sharp searing pain through some part of Jazz's back that he couldn't quite place, causing him to yelp.

 _"'Oh good, I'm awake'?"_ Jazz asked with a whimper.

"Yes, I was having trouble accessing your sensory network, as usual, so I needed you awake to tell me if I did this right. I assume from that scream of pain that I did," Ratchet said grouchily.

"It wasn't a scream, it was a _yelp,"_ Jazz protested. "An' if by 'doin' this right', y'mean my entire back hurts, then yes."

"Hmm, it does?" Ratchet pondered, then there was a brief touch on the dataport on Jazz's neck, and Ratchet pinged off his firewalls. Obligingly, Jazz dropped the firewalls, and the medic downloaded some data. Once Ratchet withdrew, the data unfolded into a new subroutine, and Jazz blinked as he recognized the distinct coding style of Prowl.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Something that should help," Ratchet said.

"Why's it called _'Ha!'?"_ Jazz asked with mild concern.

"You'll have to ask Prowl," Ratchet said, sounding suspiciously like he was smirking. There was a light tap on something on Jazz's back, which his new subroutine noted as being a new appendage, and - wait _justaslaggingminute_ \- Jazz bolted upright on the berth, causing a noise of protest from Ratchet, and glanced frantically around the med bay until he spotted the mirror Sunny had insisted be put there so he could make sure his paint job was done correctly before leaving. As Tracks had agreed on the necessity of it, the mirror had actually been installed. For which Jazz was now grateful, as he darted over to it, stumbling as he realized his center of balance was different. He ended up having to stick out a hand to catch himself on the wall next to the mirror, but he barely noticed, as his gaze was caught on the mirror. Or more importantly, on the two pristine white door wings sweeping up behind his back.

He couldn't decide whether to be delighted, horrified, stunned, confused, pleased, irritated, surprised, or what. Jazz could only stare at the two appendages as they twitched back and forth with his rapidly changing emotions. Eventually, Ratchet appeared behind him in the mirror and arched an optic ridge, then tweaked the end of one of the door wings. The suddenly rush of sensation made Jazz yelp and jump away, backing himself against the wall and staring at the medic in surprise. Then his door wings hit the wall, and ooh, that was painful. Jazz jumped away with another yelp, this time to the nearest corner. Ratchet watched calmly.

"Are you done jumping around like an earth jack rabbit?" the medic asked as Jazz attempted to calm his systems after the sensory rush.

"Why do I have door wings?" Jazz asked in reply, doing his best to keep his voice level but ending up sounding a little wobbly.

"You remember the battle?" Ratchet asked, and Jazz nodded, then frowned slightly.

"Well, up until Bruticus kicked me," he said.

"Good. That's where the problem came from," Ratchet said patiently, much more patiently than Jazz had ever seen him, save perhaps when Bluestreak had once freaked out after a battle. "You were mid-transformation when Bruticus kicked you, if you remember. His kick managed to damage your transformation cog, so you didn't finish transforming. It's taken me and Wheeljack hours to get you back into your mechanoid form, but there were some...problems. Pieces that don't go where they should. I don't know what alternations you've done to your transformation process, Jazz, but you're telling me every single one of them as soon as possible. I should have known a transformation that 'stylish' was not what you were coded with."

"Eh-heh, uh, sorry," Jazz said sheepishly.

"Don't apologize to me, you were the one who was laying in an unconscious, and unflattering, mess on the berth for over a day while Jack and I tried to figure out where your pieces went," Ratchet said dryly. "Fortunately for you, Prowl eventually came up with the idea of moving around your parts to wherever they would fit, instead of trying to put you back together the right way. Your first transformation after we get your transformation cog fixed will likely be unpleasant, but I'm sure you can handle it." From the look Ratchet was giving Jazz, the saboteur assumed that by 'unpleasant', the medic meant 'excruciatingly painful', and by 'I'm sure you can handle it', he meant 'you deserve it'.

"Oh," Jazz said, then slowly moved away from the corner, walking carefully as he tried to find his new center of balance. The new subroutine was still feeding him large amounts of sensory data, and it was threatening to swamp his processors, so he made himself focus on something else. "So why aren't you yellin'?" he asked Ratchet.

"I've had millions of years worth of experience repairing mechs with door wings, and one thing I've learned is that you don't yell at them when they're startled. It has unpleasant consequences," Ratchet said irritably.

"Such as?" Jazz asked curiously.

"Did you know Prowl once held his rifle to my head?" Ratchet replied casually, and Jazz gaped at him.

"No way," the saboteur said.

"Bluestreak's done it half a dozen times. Smokescreen's knocked me out more times than I care to count anymore," Ratchet replied as he watched Jazz re-learn how to walk. "Did you never wonder why I always offline the twins, Dinobots, or any other loud patients before bringing any of the three of them back online after being injured?"

"Well, no..." Jazz said slowly as he made his way back to the berth. He tensed as Ratchet went behind his back, but forced himself to relax, knowing that the medic wouldn't harm him, even if whatever he did might hurt.

"Their paranoia over loud sounds and their door wings right after coming online is the reason," Ratchet said. "Especially since while so far they've been able to halt their reflexes before actually doing any lasting harm, I have no doubt that someday they won't be able to, and I'd much rather stay in one piece. I suppose for the next little while I'll have to worry about you, too, though Prowl has arranged it that you won't be on battle duty until after your transformation cog is replaced, so chances are I'll only see you in here pleading with me to get rid of the slagging things."

"Are y'kiddin'?" Jazz mused as his processor adjusted to the thought of having door wings. "I think I'm gonna enjoy havin' 'em."

"Then why is the sub-routine Prowl wrote for you called _'Ha!'_?" Ratchet asked dryly. Jazz flashed a grin over his shoulder, moving his door wing out of the way so the medic could see it.

"Prowler underestimates my adaptability sometimes, Hatchet," the saboteur said, and Ratchet grunted, scowling up at him, then stepped away.

"Alright, I'm getting tired of looking at you. Time for you to go," the medic said.

"Y'sure? You don't have anything else to do?" Jazz asked.

"No. Shoo," Ratchet said, making a shooing motion with his hands. "You'll be back here soon anyways. Might as well get it over with."

"Oh ye of little faith," Jazz said with a broad grin, hopping down off the berth. He would have sauntered out of the med bay, but he was still a little unsteady, so he settled for a normal walk, taking careful note of where the edges of his new appendages were. Ratchet grunted as Jazz managed to clear the doorway without bumping them, but when the saboteur turned back to give the medic another grin, Ratchet had his back to the door, intently working on something at the back of the med bay that looked suspiciously like Jazz's transformation cog. Jazz left him to it, and debated where to go next.

He would have loved to go to the rec room and hear all the stories about the battle, and prove that having door wings wouldn't be that bad. However, Jazz suspected that this was one of those cases where showing off would just lead to problems - especially since, unlike Smokescreen, Bluestreak, and Prowl, Jazz wasn't entirely sure if he could stop himself in time if his reflexes kicked in. He hadn't, to his eternal regret, been able to stop himself once before, and while that had warranted a simple black mark on his record back on Cybertron (the punishment had been lessened because of circumstances, as well as because he'd been alone with the other mech and still fessed up even though no one would've known if he hadn't), here on Earth...well, Prime would probably have to lock him in the brig just so that the other mechs would feel safe walking around the corridors. Not to mention the bad image that would give to the humans.

So, instead, Jazz made his way carefully to his room, surprised that he didn't meet anyone on the way, and locked the door behind him. Then he sat down and tried to sort through the information the new subroutine was giving him.

Atmospheric conditions, he discovered, were incredibly easy to determine now - the door wings evidently increased sensitivity to the air around him, which made the Autobot's three resident Datsun's dislike of extreme temperatures or elevations make sense. Furthermore, the door wings seemed to be more sensitive to radiation and various waves - including, as Jazz had already suspected from his 'experiences' with Prowl, sonic and magnetic waves. Curious, Jazz activated his stereo system, and was forced to quickly turn the volume down as the music was almost painful thanks to his wings. Now he knew why Prowl didn't like listening to music with him - it wasn't the music itself, but the volume Jazz listened to it at.

That got Jazz curious as to whether or not his hearing had been increased - which would be just what he needed, to have even _more_ sensitive hearing after already having the most sensitive in the Ark (and yet he listened to his music the loudest out of all save Blaster - go figure). So he ran a few tests with his stereo system, trying to see how low he could turn the volume and still be able to hear it. There seemed to be a slight increase in sensitivity, but mostly his wings just registered the sound waves, and not the actual sounds. So he could tell something was making noise, but not what the sound was. Even more interestingly, if he twitched his door wings this way and that while listening, he could come up with an approximate location.

"I may jus' wanna keep these," Jazz said, looking over his shoulder at the door wings with appreciation. If Ratchet let him, of course, which Jazz doubted - from the way the medic had been talking, probably the last thing he wanted was another mech with door wings ready to try and kill him by accident when repaired. Ah well, Jazz would just have to enjoy them while he had them. And that certainly couldn't be done in his quarters, Jazz decided, standing and heading for the door.

The saboteur still decided not to brave the rec room quite yet, instead heading for the command center. He found Sideswipe and Sunstreaker on duty, chatting away amiably with Bluestreak, who had apparently come to keep them - or at least Sunstreaker - company. They stopped the moment they realized someone was approaching, but relaxed again when they recognized Jazz...only to stare in surprise at his new appendages.

"I've heard of mechs taking on some of the traits of their lovers, but don't you think that's a bit extreme, Jazz?" Sideswipe finally asked with a wide grin. Jazz snorted lightly.

"Hey, I had no say in it. I jus' woke up with 'em on my back," he said, amused, then experimentally flexed them. "I kinda like them, though."

"Yeah, try saying that after someone grabs you by one of them," Bluestreak said with a wide grin, surprisingly not elaborating on the statement.

"Depends on _who_ does the grabbing," Jazz drawled smugly, and Bluestreak shook his head.

"No, it really doesn't," the gunner said with a giggle. "Trust me, I know - no matter how many times it happens, or who does it, or what their intention is, your response will always be to get them _away,_ by any means necessary, including - "

"Holding a gun to the medic that just finished repairing you?" Jazz couldn't help but interject, and Bluestreak looked startled, then sheepish.

"Or actually shooting them," he said.

"What's this now? Did our Blue actually shoot a fellow Autobot?" Sideswipe piped up, his tone teasing, though his expression was curious.

"It wasn't my fault, you think with how long he's lived and all the experience in the Matrix he'd know better, but apparently he doesn't, and it was in the middle of a battle, so I was already tense and my gun was in my hand, so it wasn't that hard to suddenly turn and shoot -" Bluestreak was babbling somewhat nervously, only to stop when Sunstreaker held up a quieting hand.

"Do you mean to tell us, Blue, that you _shot Prime?_ In _battle_?" the yellow twin asked, frowning faintly.

"Uh...yeah," Bluestreak said, shifting nervously from foot to foot. "It was only in the hand though, and it didn't really hurt that much according to him. Ratchet fixed him up in like five minutes after the battle." The twins exchanged a look, then glanced at Jazz. Then, as one, they began laughing. Even Sunstreaker was laughing loudly, a sign of how at ease he felt around the mechs currently in the control room. He stopped abruptly, however, when Prowl entered, looking around with an arched optic ridge.

"I didn't know communications duty was so entertaining," the tactician said pointedly, and Sideswipe quickly calmed himself as well. Jazz calmed his laughter to a low chuckle, flashing Prowl a grin.

"So, you ever shot Prime by accident Prowler?" he asked. Prowl gave him a blank look.

"I tend to avoid those mechs that might grab my door wings unexpectedly," the tactician replied, evidently realizing what they'd been discussing.

"So why are you with Jazz again?" Sideswipe inquired, not turning from his console.

"I said _'unexpectedly',"_ Prowl replied blandly.

"I have a feeling I should resent that somehow," Jazz pondered.

"You can decide whether or not you will in the rec room. Ratchet sent me to make sure you have some energon," Prowl said, motioning out the door towards the rec room. Feeling braver now about his new door wings, Jazz didn't hesitate before taking the lead, smirking slightly to himself at Prowl's parting shot to the twins and Bluestreak and the resultant laughter and embarrassed babbling - 'I expect you two to give your full attention to completing your shifts personally, and Bluestreak to walk out of here when you're done.' The saboteur really was influencing his lover in some very entertaining ways. Then Prowl was following Jazz, and the saboteur got to play with the sensory information his door wings could send him about Prowl. He suspected the constant twitching of his wings was entertaining to watch, and swore he even heard Prowl chuckle once or twice, but he didn't really care - being able to sense things like the heat coming off Prowl's body, the way the air flowed around him, and to feel the sound waves caused by the gentle hum of his systems, was...extremely pleasant. Jazz ended up pausing just outside the rec room and turning to give Prowl his most charming grin.

"What say we grab some energon t'go an' head back to my quarters?" he asked.

"Ratchet wanted you to have some energon so that your energy levels didn't get too low. Not so that you could expend extra energy in recreational activities," Prowl replied stoically, though Jazz could just see the corner of the tactician's mouth twitching as he tried not to smile.

"I'm sure the general intention was for me t'relax, an' I can't think of a better way t'relax than in my quarters with you," Jazz said, but didn't bother pushing further, instead turning around and sauntering into the rec room. He was only aware that his new door wings fluttered slightly in Prowl's face when the tactician let out a low growl behind him, and Jazz almost turned right there and hauled Prowl off to his quarters, but the tactician was having none of it.

"Get in there you insatiable miscreant," he said in a low voice, then gave Jazz's aft a shove, pushing him all the way into the rec room with a yelp, and suddenly Jazz was the center of attention. He recovered quickly from his sudden entrance, flashing everyone a wide grin, and sauntered over to the energon dispenser, Prowl just behind. A low murmuring started up before he was halfway there, and when he turned to look for a place to sit, Smokescreen, Hound, and Mirage had made room at their table for the both of them.

"You'll want that seat," Prowl said, motioning to the one with its back to the wall as they neared the table.

"I will?" Jazz asked with amusement.

"You will," Smokescreen agreed with Prowl, and Jazz decided not to argue, taking the seat as offered, with Prowl taking the one across from him.

"So. This is why Ratchet and Wheeljack wouldn't let anyone in the med bay this afternoon," Hound said consideringly.

"Evidently," Jazz replied with a grin and a shrug, then started sipping on his energon.

"Also why Prowl has been unbearably smug the past few days, I suppose," Mirage added. Jazz glanced at his lover with amusement, but Prowl sat there serenely.

"I don't know what you're talking about Mirage," the tactician said blandly.

"Of course not," Mirage replied just as blandly. The two engaged in a mild staring contest until Mirage's lips twitched slightly, and then Hound started chuckling, ruining the tableau.

"You know, in Jazz's defense, Prowl, I _did_ offer up some friendly advice," Smokescreen said with his own chuckle. "Granted, I didn't exactly tell him to go act on it right away, but..."

"Why does everyone assume that door wings are somethin' bad?" Jazz interrupted before Prowl could reply, the question almost rhetoric. "I'm kinda likin' them."

"You won't be," Prowl and Smokescreen said in unison, causing the other three mechs at the table to pause in surprise.

"Well, actually, he might be liking them for awhile. After all, he won't have to grow up with them," Smokescreen said suddenly, turning to Prowl.

"True, but this is a war we're in. I'm fairly sure that's worse than any youngling scuffle," the tactician replied.

"Ah, but you've taken him off battle duty until he can be fixed properly," Smokescreen countered.

"Recharge," Prowl said, enunciating carefully.

"Ooooh, point." Smokescreen said, nodding sagely, and the two of them turned back to Jazz. "You'll be begging Ratchet to take them off by the end of the week."

"Day," Prowl corrected.

"No, I'm pretty sure he'll enjoy that," Smokescreen said dryly, and Prowl gave the other mech a slightly irritated look, but Smokescreen made no apologies. Fortunately, Hound decided a change of topic was needed, and so Jazz got to hear all the battle stories, including how they'd inevitably won after he'd been knocked out of commission. Other mechs came and joined them for awhile, then left, and Jazz almost forgot about his new appendages, until he became aware of an ache on his back, and realized that he'd been holding his door wings quite stiffly for most of the evening.

He'd also been back-logging sensory information from them, and as Jazz let it a small portion of it loose to flow through his processor, he winced. There was so much it was painful - evidently door wings were so sensitive because they never _stopped_ picking up sensory information, even if you didn't want to hear it. Jazz wondered how Smokescreen and Prowl managed it, with their backs to the room at large, and looking back, realized that both of the mechs had become quieter over the course of the evening. It was an explanation for why none of the mechs with door wings ever stayed very long at parties, at least in one stretch - Prowl had yet to show his faceplate at a party, but Bluestreak and Smokescreen attended them frequently, but were known to wander in and out repeatedly over the course of the night. They were probably going off to unwind and sort through the data from their door wings before going back in to the excess sensory information.

Which was what Jazz really needed to do now, though since there wasn't an actual party going on, he didn't particularly want to return, so with a playful leer and a grin, he suggested to Prowl that they call it quits for the night, since both of them had early shifts the next day.

"I expect payment tomorrow afternoon, Prowl," Smokescreen called after them as they left.

"I expect the same," Prowl replied calmly, but refused to elaborate when Jazz pestered him about it as they walked towards the section of the Ark that held the officer's quarters.

"Your place or mine?" Jazz finally asked, giving up on his line of questioning, as he motioned between the two doors on opposite sides of the hall.

"You don't have a functioning alarm clock. Mine," Prowl replied pleasantly.

"This have to do with Smokey's parting shot?" Jazz couldn't help asking curiously, but Prowl said nothing as he tapped in his security code and the doors to his quarters slid open. Jazz followed without asking for permission - he'd stopped asking long before they'd become lovers - and immediately began fondling Prowl's door wings, even before the door was shut. The tactician groaned under the touch, then turned to Jazz with a positively evil look on his face.

"You are very lucky that I know you will need to sort through excess sensory data, Jazz," Prowl practically growled, stalking forward until he was inches from Jazz's face, almost casually hitting the button to lock the door as he went.

"Gotta do something to entertain myself while I do that," Jazz said, grinning. In response, Prowl reached out and ran a finger down the top of Jazz's right door wing in a delicate caress. The sudden rush of feeling made Jazz gasp, his processor momentarily blanking out, and when it came back to life, he was hit with the backlog of data that he'd been pushing back. He had time for the thought that Prowl had planned this before he could think of nothing other than sorting through the slagging _mountain_ of data.

When he finished, Jazz looked up to find himself sitting on Prowl's berth, with no idea how he'd gotten there. Prowl was not in the room in front of him, but data from his door wings quickly informed him that the tactician was behind him. He didn't have time to turn around, however, before Prowl's hands were on his door wings, and ooooh, that felt good. Jazz lost himself to the touch on his new appendages, his systems revving happily ever-higher, while his cooling system struggled to keep up, but still left him radiating heat.

Jazz wanted to return the favour, and tried to turn, but Prowl had apparently decided to have his fun with Jazz's door wings for now. He pushed Jazz firmly back down, and then one hand began caressing one of Jazz's horns, and the other one of his new door wings. Jazz shuddered, still a little wobbly from all that excess data and a little overwhelmed by the new sensations, and before he knew it, he had overloaded. His hands gripped the side of the berth tightly and his optics off-lined as the surge of energy swept through him, and through it all, Prowl didn't stop touching his wings. It somehow, amazingly, wonderfully, managed to stretch out the overload just a tiny bit longer, and at the end of it, Jazz could only slump backwards, not sure his limbs would move if he told them to, and grin goofily up at Prowl, who smirked down at him.

"Now you know how it feels," the tactician said with dry humour.

"Ooooh yeah..." Jazz said happily, then as he got more coherence back, he added, "I suddenly respect your willpower for even being able to get out of the berth in the morning." Prowl shook his head slightly, looking amused, then pushed Jazz upright.

"You'll want to lay on your side - you'll never be able to go into recharge if you're laying on your door wings," the tactician said.

"Who said I was going into recharge just yet?" Jazz inquired innocently, turning so he was sitting sideways on the berth.

"Jazz, you've just been repaired. I have strict orders from Ratchet not to...let you tire yourself out," Prowl replied firmly, a clear hesitation in his voice, and Jazz smirked as he guessed the reason.

"You mean Ratchet told you not to tire me out. But I betcha he didn't say a thing about tiring _you_ out," the saboteur purred, and Prowl gave him a mild glare. The glare quickly disappeared when Jazz pounced on him, sending him onto his back on the berth, though the saboteur was mindful of his lover's door wings. The fierce kiss that followed seemed to daze Prowl suitably, and Jazz used the opportunity to attack the afore-mentioned door wings with sonic and magnetic pulses and waves from his hands. At first he just ran his hands over them as if smoothing them out, but then he began to explore the areas he'd learned from personal experience were especially sensitive. He became so concentrated on what he was doing that he almost forgot what this was likely doing to Prowl.

Well, at least until Prowl suddenly surged upright, and Jazz found his hands held against the wall, his new door wings crushed almost painfully behind him, partially pinned under his arms, as a very, very predatory Prowl smirked down at him. Jazz had the time to think that this was new before Prowl kissed him with searing intensity, then began nibbling and biting along Jazz's neck, giving special care to particularly sensitive cables that stuck out here and there, before he transferred his attention to the accessible parts of Jazz's door wings. The saboteur shuddered, off-lining his optics, as Prowl paid his wings the same attention his own had just received, seeking out the most sensitive spots and using that very talented mouth of his on them. Prowl had evidently figured out a few of Jazz's favourite tricks, as well, as cold air, likely re-routed from Prowl's cooling system, washed over the edge of one door wing, only to be following by the burning warmth of Prowl's lips.

 _"Primus,_ Prowl..." Jazz whimpered, then tugged against the hands holding his wrists. Prowl let up, even pulling Jazz forward slightly so the saboteur was in his lap, and freeing Jazz's trapped door wings. It made said door wings impossible for Prowl to reach with his mouth, but that was perfectly fine, since Prowl's mouth was currently occupied kissing Jazz hungrily, anyways. Both their hands were busy, though not on each other's door wings for once. For now they were exploring the seams in each other's armor, exploring all the other sensitive spots. They were almost frantic in their wanderings, hands flitting from place to place, only to return to pay more attention to a previously visited spot.

Prowl was the first one to bring his hands back to Jazz's door wings, and the sudden touch on the sensitive appendages when his systems were already so close almost sent Jazz into another overload, but he was determined to make Prowl go first, so he slid his hands up Prowl's back to the door wing joints and sent alternating pulses of sonic and magnetic waves into them, as strong as he could make them. His response was a deep, shuddering moan from Prowl, but no overload - Prowl evidently had his own plans as well, as Jazz realized when the panel on Prowl's chest slid open, revealing his spark casing. Jazz stared in surprise for a moment, then looked up into the surprisingly serious - and slightly nervous? - expression on Prowl's face.

"Hey, even Beachcomber could see us comin'. Y'really think I'm about to shy away from a little commitment?" Jazz asked softly, teasingly, running a hand along Prowl's jaw in a gentle caress. Prowl hadn't really asked Jazz to bond with him with that simple act, but it was close. Spark sharing was serious business, as it usually forged preliminary bonds that were strengthened later when the couple actually did bond. It was somewhat similar to a human engagement, in that rarely was it not followed by bonding (save in multi-partner relationships and _those_ were just too complicated to think about while Jazz's processor was running along the lines of _'Prowl, spark, guh!'_ ) but yet completely different.

"I've yet to see you make a commitment of any type to any particular mech or femme, save for Prime when you joined the Autobots," Prowl said in reply, managing to sound sheepish and reprimanding at the same time.

"An' now you," Jazz replied promptly, leaning in to kiss the tactician as he opened his own panel, and as their chassis touched, Jazz felt the world slip away, leaving only himself and Prowl. Their sparks touched briefly, hesitantly, at first, but the contact sent shivers through both of them, and they both gasped into the kiss, before their sparks touched once again, this time more forcefully, more sure, and they didn't separate right away. Prowl's awareness nudged into Jazz's, and Jazz was sure the feeling was mutually, then suddenly he could _feel_ \- feel everything, from both of them, and it was so overwhelming that he couldn't even try to process it, only accept it.

As he became used to the extra data, Jazz became aware of something else, under it all, and reached out. He found himself wrapped up in Prowl - not just the tactician's mind, but his spark, and all the feelings inside. He could feel Prowl's dedication to the Autobot cause, mirroring his own, could feel Prowl's fondness for his fellow Autobots - even for the twins - hidden carefully away so as not to cause problems with his duties. And yes, there was the logical part of Prowl, but it wasn't cold, it was warm, warm with the love Prowl had for his logic, with the joy he got from solving a particularly tricky problem or figuring out a fool-proof battle-plan. But most of all, there was Prowl's love for Jazz, and it was truly beautiful. It was older than Jazz had expected, and a voice whispered in the back of Jazz's mind that Prowl had been in love with him long before he'd ever realized it, on that bogus mission Prime had set them up on. It was...overwhelming, and Jazz almost thought he'd drown - and happily so - in the depth of Prowl's love, when there was a gentle tug, pulling him back, and he found himself leaving Prowl's spark, until he was mind-to-mind with Prowl, thoughts of love flowing between them.

Jazz would have been content to stay that way forever, floating in a happy sea of bliss, but common sense, and Prowl, said that they couldn't. Realistically speaking, they'd run out of energy at some point if nothing else, but Jazz still couldn't bring himself to move. Fortunately, one of his hands was still on the joints for Prowl's door wings - he could feel it through Prowl - and he sent a gentle sonic pulse through it. The reaction was instantaneous, the pleasure being shared between both of them, then echoed back and forth, until they built themselves up to an overload, and this time the entire world, including Prowl, disappeared as Jazz off-lined.

\---

Smokescreen stood smirking in the control room early the next morning, leaning against the console and ignoring Hound's curious questions about his presence, when Prowl staggered in to report for his shift. The tactician was looking half-dead, and Smokescreen would have bet anything that there was a cube of energon stashed away in Prowl's subspace, waiting for a time when nobody was looking to be downed in one gulp.

"I believe you officially lost, Prowl," the blue and red mech said, still smirking, as Prowl visibly steadied himself and forced himself to concentrate. It took the tactician a few moments to focus on Smokescreen, and then he arched an optic ridge.

"I believe I, officially, won, Smokescreen," he replied.

"You're an hour late. You lost," Smokescreen countered.

"I suggest you check the schedule again. I am, in fact, right on time," Prowl replied calmly, then gave Hound a prompting look.

"He's right, Smokey," Hound said with amusement. "His shift doesn't start until - well, now."

"That's - let me see!" Smokescreen said with a scowl, leaning over the console, and Hound leaned back and let him, amused. Smokescreen made a noise of annoyance. "And why did _Prime_ just _happen_ to decide to change your shift, in the middle of the night last night, to an hour later this morning?" he asked, turning to give Prowl a mild glare. "I told you it didn't count if you changed it or asked for it to be changed."

"I said nothing. I woke up this morning on time, however, to find Jazz's and my schedules both changed," Prowl said innocently, then came to stand on the other side of Hound. Smokescreen stood there and fumed as the tactician asked Hound about the events of his shift - none - and anything he should watch in particular - nothing - before officially relieving Hound. As the scout got up, he rested a hand on Smokescreen's shoulder sympathetically.

"Smokey, y'gotta remember - you can't win against Prowl," he said soothingly, then with a glance back at Prowl, added with amusement, "Especially about being late for duty when Prime's quarters are right next to his."

Prowl refused to comment as Hound led an indignantly sputtering Smokescreen out of the control room.


	6. Absence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time, Primus decided there would only be three mechs in the Ark with door wings...and then Prowl decided to get back at Jazz and convinced Ratchet to give him door wings. So Primus decided to even things out a little. At least, that's First Aid's theory...

Jazz was bored. More than bored, in fact, because not only did he have nothing to do, but he was alone. He wasn't entirely alone, of course - First Aid was in the med bay, readying it for the inevitable injuries, and Tracks was moping about somewhere, unable to go for vaguely the same reason as Jazz - he'd been injured in the last battle, a part of his leg wrecked beyond repair, and Wheeljack was still working on the replacement. This left Tracks with only one functioning leg, and thus not much movement, so even if the other bot had wanted Jazz's company - which was highly doubtful - he wouldn't have been able to get to the control room, and Jazz couldn't - wouldn't - leave while he was on duty.

So Jazz just sat in a chair in the command center, his door wings flicking about idly in evidence of his boredom, and watched the screen that showed Skyfire and the other Autobot's progress towards the nuclear power plant the Decepticons were attacking. Jazz couldn't even remember the last time he'd been left behind for a battle like this, and was glad for it, if this was what he got like while left behind. Already he could feel his boredom slipping into a mild form of depression, and absently wished that he dared contact Prowl and chat with his lover for a bit. Prowl was probably already focused on the battle, however, and Jazz didn't want to distract him, especially with something as minor as Jazz being bored and lonely. Both problems would be solved when the battle finished and everyone returned, anyways.

"Are they there yet?" the voice from behind him startled Jazz, and with a yelp, he fell out of the chair, and reflexively winced, knowing this was going to hurt with his new door wings. Fortunately, he never hit the ground, as hands caught his shoulders, stopping his fall and pushing him back into the chair.

 _"Primus,_ Aid, don't sneak up on a bot like that!" Jazz swore, giving the young medic a slightly irritated look as he settled himself more securely in the chair. First Aid gave him an amused look as he let his hands fall away from Jazz's shoulders and stepped up beside him.

"I thought it was impossible to sneak up on you, especially with your new door wings," he said, nodding to the named appendages before turning his attention to the screen.

"It's possible to sneak up on anyone, y'just hafta time it right," Jazz replied with a shake of his head. "No, they ain't there yet."

"They're close, though," First Aid mused, and Jazz nodded, though the medic was too focused on the screen to see. It occurred to Jazz then that this was the only time he could remember the other Protectobots going into battle without First Aid, and he couldn't help but wonder as to why, eventually voicing his curiosity aloud.

"Prime wants all of the gestalt teams to get used to having a piece missing every once and awhile, just in case we're needed in battle when one of us is injured. Ratchet also wants to see if I can prepare the med bay for incoming battle casualties without him, as well as handle everything once they come back," First Aid replied with a shrug.

"Huh. I wish Prime luck convincing the Aerialbots to leave one of their own behind," Jazz mused.

"I believe he was planning on waiting until one of them was actually injured to start trying it," First Aid replied dryly, and Jazz chuckled.

"Smart mech," he said.

"That would be why he's Prime," was the assured answer, and Jazz gave the young medic a sidelong look, wondering if he should burst his bubble. Glancing back at the screen, he discovered that the other Autobots had just arrived, and he decided not to, instead flipping the battle comm channel to the main speakers and turning it up. After a moment's hesitation, he sent an invitation to Tracks' quarters, so that the mech could listen to the events in there if he wanted. The invite was accepted, and so the three mechs remaining in the Ark sat and listened to the battle chatter, the chatter they were used to participating in, as the fight progressed.

It was an intense battle, especially considering the location. Both the Autobots and the Decepticons had to be careful not to cause too much damage to the power plant itself, or they might end up caught in an explosion that even Cybertronians couldn't survive. Really, why the humans persisted on messing with nuclear power was beyond Jazz, but then, they were still learning, and had a long ways to go before they could effectively use other, cleaner, less dangerous forms of power. It wasn't like they had lakes of energon just lying around.

 _"Slaggit, Prowl!"_ The mention of his lover brought Jazz's attention back to the chatter abruptly, and he focused intently.

 _"I'm fine Ironhide."_ The tactician's voice came next.

 _"Slag ya are. Ratchet, Prowl needs ya,"_ the older mech said over Prowl's continued protests.

 _"If he's well enough to protest needing help, he can wait until I'm done with Cliffjumper,"_ Ratchet snapped over the line.

 _"Fine, he ain't goin' anywhere, an' now neither am I,"_ Ironhide replied grouchily. There were some snickers over the line, as this was typical battle chatter for two of the oldest mechs on Earth right now. Ironhide was always on the lookout for injured during a battle, and whenever he found one, he'd let Ratchet know - Ratchet would snap at him that he was busy and that whoever it was could wait, Ironhide would grouchily reply something to the effect of it being up to him to keep the bot safe until Ratchet deigned to make his appearance, and thus everybody would know that wherever Ironhide was, was where Ratchet was going next, and they'd best clear the way of Decepticons for the medic.

 _"Bluestreak, watch Skywarp."_ The instruction came from Prowl, and as Jazz listened, he realized whatever injury his lover had apparently put him out of the fight almost entirely, since he now had a lot more time to observe and make comments. Jazz was actually kind of grateful for it, since it meant he was almost constantly hearing Prowl's voice. Unfortunately, whatever good feelings Jazz had managed to summon at being able to hear Prowl's voice were abruptly dissolved by the cry every Autobot hated to hear -

 _"Ratchet, get down!"_ It came from a frantic-sounding Smokescreen, and was followed by dead silence over the comm channel.

 _"Prime, we need to end this fast. Ratchet's hit, and it ain't pretty."_ Sideswipe's voice was surprisingly calm as he reported.

 _"Understood,"_ Optimus replied. _"Wheeljack, pull back and see what you can do for Ratchet. Everyone else able, get in there and do as much damage as you can. Leave Megatron to me."_ There was a chorus of 'yes sir's, and then fast and furious chatter as everyone picked out targets and made hasty plans. Prowl interjected every once and awhile with recommendation, which were duly noted and sometimes even listened to, but the mech himself obviously wasn't going anywhere, telling Ironhide to leave him when the mech said he'd be staying back and shooting.

 _"You're a melee fighter, not ranged, Ironhide. I still have my rifle. Go,"_ Prowl said firmly, around the rest of the chatter, and there was a pause, then Ironhide was claiming dibs on Motormaster. From there, the battle went quickly, finishing in a matter of minutes. Someone laughingly relayed one of Megatron's parting comments to Ramjet, who had been the one to hit Ratchet. Evidently the cone-head was barely conscious, after the beating Sideswipe and Cliffjumper had given him, but Megatron was already ranting at him for being a slagging idiot and hitting the Autobot's medic and didn't the fragger know that doing so always lost them the battle and he was never going to see anything but the inside of the brig ever again...Jazz was in the middle of laughing over it with First Aid when he suddenly felt something...foreign. It wasn't an intrusion, but it was unpleasant, feeling like a deep ache along his shoulders and stretching into his door wings, causing his mood to drop noticeably. Jazz frowned, and First Aid gave him a concerned look.

 _"Prowl, y'alright?"_ Jazz had spoken over the comm channel before he realized what he was doing.

 _"I'm fine Jazz,"_ Prowl said, his voice calm - too calm.

 _"No, you're not,"_ Jazz said, letting his concern leak into his voice. There was a pause in the comm chatter as the Autobots on the field apparently spoke out loud instead of over the channel, and then Ironhide came on the line.

 _"Stubborn slagging..."_ the mech muttered. _"He didn't say a word 'bout his door wings."_ Jazz winced sympathetically.

"I think I'd better get to the med bay," First Aid said softly, and Jazz looked up at him.

"Want help?" he said. "I got less training than Swoop, but I know how to identify serious injuries, an' how to patch things so you can get to them later."

"Ah - yes, that would be appreciated. Wheeljack will probably be busy with Ratchet," First Aid's expression got gradually more horrified as he spoke, the young medic suddenly realizing that he was about to be the top medic.

"Relax Aid, I didn't hear of any other major injuries," Jazz said as he re-routed the channel to be heard in med bay, then stood from his chair. "You go ahead to the med bay, I'll stop in and see Tracks before I head to the entrance."

"Alright," First Aid said unsteadily, then gave himself a shake, straightened his shoulders, and marched out purposefully. Jazz, heading out another way to get to Tracks' quarters, decided that the young medic would do alright. It was his first big test, handling the aftermath of a battle essentially by himself (Swoop and the Dinobots were out training), but Ratchet had trained him well.

Tracks was fine, still sulking about not being in the battle, and Jazz left him there, heading for the entrance of the Ark. It would be another fifteen minutes before the first of the Autobots got back, inside Skyfire, but those would be the most injured, and they were the reason Jazz was out here. It wasn't long until Skyfire came into view, and Jazz quickly checked up on Prowl - his door wings had a black scorch mark running cross-wise down them, but otherwise he was fine. Satisfied, Jazz turned to helping get Ratchet moved into the med bay.

The medic, it seemed, had taken a missile to his right shoulder, and while he still had his arm, most of the upper right of his torso was a mess of sparking wires, melted metal, and leaking lines. Wheeljack was frantically closing as many of those as he could even while they carried Ratchet to the med bay. First Aid had been correct in assuming that the inventor would be too wrapped up with keeping Ratchet alive to help with the other patients, so Jazz began throwing his rank around, ordering the uninjured out - including Prime, much to everyone's (including Jazz and Prime's) amusement. He took a few pages from Ratchet's book, threatening a few of the more stubborn ones - Sideswipe, since Sunstreaker was hurt, and most of the mini-bots, since Bumblebee was hurt - but eventually got everyone without an injury, save for himself, First Aid, and Wheeljack, out of the med bay. After looking around at who was injured, he promptly called Hound back in, since he knew scout and special ops training included equivalent basic field medicine courses.

Hound proved to be a good choice, since the mech was also able to calm down some of the more irritable patients, excluding Sunstreaker (who whined loudly and irritatingly, as he always did when his brother wasn't in the med bay with him, and nobody besides Sideswipe or Ratchet at his scariest could ever shut him up), while patching them up long enough for them to stay online until First Aid got to them. First Aid himself was working quickly, but surely, making his way through the most serious of patients first. Fortunately, the only one with a life-threatening injury was Ratchet.

Wheeljack eventually began asking for parts, and First Aid, at first, tried to get them, only to growl with annoyance at the frequency with which Wheeljack asked - the inventor apparently did not know how to anticipate and ask for more than one part at once, like Ratchet did - and so Sideswipe was called back in to get parts.

"Why me?" Sideswipe asked in a sort of stunned way when he was told why he was back in the med bay.

"Because you've been in here often enough, when you're supposed to be and not, that you know where most things are, and it'll shut up your brother," First Aid replied snappily. "Now go ask Wheeljack what he needs." Sideswipe went, causing his twin, and several other mechs, to snigger. Sideswipe just mouthed _'he's scary!'_ and proceeded to ignore them all, causing a brief laugh, especially from Groove, the only injured Protectobot. Fortunately, Groove's injuries were so slight that he and Jazz fixed them together, meaning First Aid wouldn't have the unpleasant task of working on one of his gestalt-mates. Jazz sent him off with a warning to get First Aid to look him over regardless, the same as he was telling everyone he could fix up and send out himself. Groove agreed, but came back after a few minutes with a tray full of energon.

"Prime's orders," the mech said, nodding to the tray, and distributed it first between the five 'medics' - Sideswipe was extremely pleased that he rated one simply for 'playing fetch for Wheeljack', as his brother put it bitingly. Then Groove went and got more energon for the injured mechs, and that was when they discovered that Trailbreaker had a problem in his energon conversion system. First Aid was forced to focus on that for awhile, and Groove got the wonderful job of cleaning up the energon that Trailbreaker had decorated the floor with.

Jazz lost track of time somewhere in there, tending to the various bots and keeping a close eye on First Aid and Wheeljack, making sure they had everything they needed. He could tell the moment Wheeljack stabilized Ratchet, as the inventor visibly relaxed, and Sideswipe started cracking jokes, lightening the mood in the med bay. The red twin eventually started up a game of 'What We're Going To Do To Ramjet When We See Him Next', which got everyone in a good, if somewhat bloodthirsty, mood. First Aid, meanwhile, seemed to go through cycles of getting so stressed he looked like he was about to snap, only to suddenly calm down and remain that way for a stretch of time before working himself up again. Jazz suspected the other Protectobots had something to do with it, and made a mental note to thank them later.

Eventually, Jazz and Hound ran out of patients, and the saboteur sent Hound off to rest, realizing only then how late it was - the battle had happened in the early morning, so they'd been working in the med bay most of the day, with only one cube of energon each to keep them going. First Aid was looking dead on his feet, but he only had a few more patients to check, so Jazz didn't say a word, instead going to check on Wheeljack and Sideswipe.

"How's Ratch?" Jazz asked softly as he approached.

"He'll be fine in a few days, though it was close there for awhile," Wheeljack replied, the lights on the side of his head flashing wearily as he worked on his friend. "Some of his armor had melted onto his spark casing."

"Ouch," Jazz said.

"Yeah. Never thought I'd say this, but it was a good thing Sideswipe always gets himself injured, because if he hadn't had the same thing happen to himself once, and then had to listen to Ratchet ranting about what he'd had to do to fix it later, I wouldn't have been able to stop the molten metal from getting into Ratchet's spark," Wheeljack said quietly.

"Yes you would have," Sideswipe said firmly. "You were already close to it when I remembered Ratchet's solution."

"No, I wasn't," Wheeljack said, looking troubled, and Jazz put a comforting hand on his shoulder before turning to find Prowl. He found the tactician laying face down, unconscious, on a berth, having been tended to by First Aid quite early on. The back of Prowl's door wings, however, still bore the scorch mark Jazz had seen earlier, looking like they hadn't been tended to, and Jazz frowned, wondering why. Then he noticed the reboot inhibitor strapped to Prowl's head, and realized that First Aid must have had a few problems fixing him.

"I'd like to know how he managed to get shot like that, and who did the shooting," First Aid said as he came up on the other side of Prowl's berth. "There's some serious damage there that even Ratchet would need awhile to fix."

"Finished with everyone?" Jazz asked curiously, glancing before the young medic, and First Aid nodded.

"I want Wheeljack to look over some of them, and Ratchet to look over all of them once he's better, but for now, they should live, especially with the speech I've been giving them all," he said.

"Oh?" Jazz asked, and First Aid grimaced.

"Yeah. I'm not Ratchet. I'm nowhere near as good as Ratchet, no medic alive is. So I'm likely going to miss things, which means if anything feels even the slightest bit out of place to them, they need to let me know, since chances are I won't spot it myself," the young medic said.

"Not the most reassurin'," Jazz mused.

"No, but necessary," First Aid replied. "Hurts my pride a little, as well, but as long as everyone's alright in the end, my pride can be beaten down into nothingness for all I care." Jazz nodded, giving the young mech a small smile.

"So how long before he's online again?" Jazz asked, turning his gaze back to Prowl.

"Probably late tonight," First Aid said.

"I thought you said his wings would take awhile to fix?" Jazz asked curiously.

"Oh, they will. But with some of the angles I'll have to hold them at to fix them, I can't leave them attached. So I was going to remove them, then let him go back to his quarters," First Aid replied with a shrug, then gave Jazz an amused look. "Seems you two will have reversed in terms of back appendages."

"Evidently," Jazz said with a chuckle. "Are you going to rest for a bit before taking them off?"

"I...am not going to pick up anymore of Ratchet's bad habits. Yes," First Aid said with a sense of finality, then giggled slightly, for a moment showing how young he really was. "I don't think the Autobots could handle two Ratchet's anyways."

"Oh, the Autobots could, but I don't think the twins can," Jazz said dryly.

"Yes we could!" Sideswipe called from where he was still helping Wheeljack. "Besides, having two Ratchet's would be perfect for situations like this...I'm already starting to miss being roared at, insulted, and having tools thrown at my head."

"Sorry, I'll try and improve," First Aid said with a snort as he and Jazz turned to watch Wheeljack doing some sort of fine-tuned work on part of Ratchet's shoulder. Sideswipe was currently providing light, of various types as requested by Wheeljack, so Jazz suspected the inventor was working on Ratchet's sensor net.

"Meh, as long as you keep up the essential similarity, which is being able to fix my bro, I don't mind. Just feels suspiciously...empty in here," Sideswipe said, glancing around for a moment. "You ever notice how he seems to fill up any room he's in?"

"Yeah," First Aid said softly, his expression sad as he looked at his mentor, laying unconscious on the berth.

"He'll be fine, Aid," Wheeljack said without looking up. "Go get some energon and unwind a bit before coming back."

"Yeah, come on. Optimus will be waitin' for a report, an' you've got a good one to give," Jazz said, resting a hand on First Aid's shoulder and steering him towards the exit of the med bay.

"I'm going, I'm going," First Aid said with a light laugh. Jazz grinned and let the young medic go, since he was walking on his own - unlike certain _other_ medics would be - and they headed out together, making for the rec room. They got half-way before the other Protectobots met up with them, and Jazz handed First Aid off to his brothers, then went to give Optimus his report. It wasn't hard for the saboteur to miss that Optimus was troubled as he gave his report, so he stayed after his report was done and coaxed the Autobot leader into talking to him. Turned out the big lug was blaming himself for Ratchet and Prowl both getting hurt, and Jazz spent the remainder of the evening trying to cheer Optimus up, as well as convince him it wasn't his fault. In the end, it was the threat to call Elita on Cybertron and have _her_ tell him he was being stupid that got through to Optimus, and Jazz was able to head off feeling satisfied. He was almost back to his quarters when his comm line beeped at him.

 _"Jazz here,"_ he replied lazily.

 _"Could you come down to the med bay Jazz?"_ First Aid's replied. _"I've removed Prowl's door wings and I'm about to bring him online. It might go easier if you're here."_

 _"Course, on my way,"_ Jazz replied, surprised that he'd actually managed to forget that First Aid was going to let Prowl out of the med bay tonight, and changed course, heading back to the med bay. He got there just as Prowl sat up, and watched without revealing his presence as the other mech tentatively stood up. Prowl almost immediately over-balanced himself, and though First Aid moved to catch him, Jazz got there first.

"Your center'a balance is gonna be about here," Jazz said, poking the tactician's torso in the appropriate spot, and Prowl paused, then straightened himself, and managed to take a step away from Jazz without falling over.

"Thank you Jazz," he said, sounding relieved.

"No problem," Jazz replied pleasantly. "How you feeling otherwise?"

“...Blind,” Prowl said with a small grimace.

“That’s just from the missing sensory information your door wings normally give you,” First Aid spoke up.”You should become accustomed to the loss over time, though I should have your wings fixed and back on you before you get too used to it.”

“I hope so,” Prowl said, glancing at his mangled wings, laying on a table at the back of the med bay, next to Jazz’s transformation cog.

“Oh, I’ve also disabled your transformation sequence, since the absence of your doors might cause...problems,” First Aid said with a small grin after following Prowl's gaze.

“Of course,” Prowl said with a nod.

"You're good to go otherwise," First Aid said. "Just come to me if you feel anything - and I mean anything - wrong. I don't have Ratchet's sensors, or rank, so even if I could tell something was wrong with you, I couldn't drag you back here like him." the young medic nodded towards Ratchet's berth, which was being 'guarded' by Sideswipe. Wheeljack was nowhere to be found, though with the way Ratchet's wound was covered, Jazz suspected the inventor had gone to get some recharge before continuing.

"There will be no need for that, I am sure," Prowl said, bringing attention back to himself and away from Ratchet.

"Tell that to Red Alert. He's kept a tally of the number of times he's watched Ratchet drag you down to the med bay," First Aid said with a snort. "I believe the total is into the three hundreds now." Prowl gave the medic a sour look.

"Yeah, but he's also got me to convince him to come down here, now," Jazz told the medic with a bright grin, then grabbed Prowl's arm. "An' speaking of convincin' you to go places, Prowl, what does a mech have to do to get an escort back to his quarters?" The look Jazz gave Prowl was partly teasing and partly leering, but it got Prowl moving, and after thanking First Aid, the two officers left the young medic alone to - hopefully - get some recharge.

The walk back to Jazz's quarters was interesting, as Prowl kept twitching and glancing around nervously. He nearly jumped out of his armor when Beachcomber walked past them, getting him an odd look, and Jazz was suddenly glad that First Aid had decided to let the tactician out of the med bay tonight. If Prowl was this jumpy at this time of night, Jazz couldn't imagine what he'd be like during the day, when there were a lot more mechs wandering about.

When they reached Jazz's quarters, Prowl stepped in without a word, and as Jazz locked the door, he could feel the tingle - almost painfully in his door wings - of a high-powered sensor sweep. He turned to Prowl with an amused smile, intending to make a joke about it, but amusement quickly died and was replaced with concern when he saw Prowl. The tactician had gotten up onto Jazz's berth and backed himself into a corner, so that nothing was behind him, and was hugging his legs to his chassis, gaze darting around the room.

"Prowl? Y'alright?" Jazz asked softly, approaching the other mech carefully.

"Fine," Prowl replied shortly, and Jazz couldn't stop the noise of disbelief that came. Fortunately, it ended up catching Prowl's attention, and he looked up at Jazz for a moment before uncurling, stretching his legs out across the berth and letting his hands fall into his lap. Jazz took a seat on the berth, facing Prowl, and took one of the other mech's hands in his own.

"Nothing's gonna hurt ya here, Prowl," Jazz said.

"No, but mechs will sneak up on me," Prowl muttered almost inaudibly.

"It happens," Jazz said with mild amusement. "Aid just 'bout scared the energon outta me earlier - snuck up behind me while I was busy being bored." Prowl gave him an odd look.

"You have door wings now though," the tactician pointed out.

"Doesn't mean I can't be snuck up on," Jazz said with a shrug, then as a thought occurred to him, added, "Don't tell me you've never had someone sneak up on you?" Prowl frowned.

"Unless you count times in battle or on missions when cloaking devices were involved, only once. When I was still a youngling," he stated, and Jazz stared at him for a moment in surprise. Prowl shrugged. "When you grow up with door wings, you learn how to interpret the data they give you. They're...practically another set of sensors, optics, and audios all by themselves if you know how to use them. I actually met a mech once who could use them instead of his other sensors, and get around just as well. He enjoyed wandering around with his optics turned off, scaring mechs and femmes he hadn't met before." Prowl paused for a moment. "He went insane after a Decepticon ripped his door wings off."

"You're not going to go insane, Prowl," Jazz said, arching an optic ridge, and Prowl gave him an exasperated look.

"Of course not," he said. "I feel half-blind, however, and it's making me nervous and jumpy and...tense." Prowl hunched in on himself a bit at that, pulling his legs back up to his chassis, and scowled at a spot on the berth.

"A good night's recharge should help with that," Jazz said reassuringly.

"I don't think I can _get_ into recharge with how tense I am," Prowl muttered, and Jazz resisted the urge to compare his lover to a petulant sparkling, no matter how strong the similarities right now. He wanted to help Prowl, after all, not send the mech stomping out of his quarters.

"We'll have to find a way to get you into recharge, then," Jazz said patiently. "What's something relaxing that you feel like doing?"

"Going for a drive?"

"Now you're just being difficult," Jazz said dryly, and Prowl gave him a sour look.

"As shocking as this may be to you, I do not always feel like working, and I wouldn't be able to focus to read or watch anything, so that doesn't really leave much else, now, does it?" the tactician said acidly.

"Well neither of us can transform right now, so goin' for a drive is outta the question, too," Jazz replied, then stood and went over to his stereo. He flipped through his collection of music until he found some nice jazz music and put it on. It was rather ironic that Prowl's favourite earth music had always been jazz music, even from before he'd admitted his feelings for Jazz, the mech. It had given Jazz a little boost in confidence when he'd first discovered that, until he'd realized it wasn't Prowl returning his affections - he just honestly liked the music.

"Feeling quiet this evening?" Prowl murmured as Jazz returned to the berth, and Jazz paused, realizing the music was about half the volume he would've normally played it at. He hadn't even noticed.

"Door wings," he explained sheepishly, shrugging. "I can turn it up if you want."

"No, that's fine. Your normal volume can get unpleasant at loud parts...when you have door wings," Prowl said, frowning slightly at the last part.

"Yeah, I've been meaning to apologize to ya for that. I had no idea the volume was what was causin' problems," Jazz commented.

"The volume and I'm not a big music fan," Prowl replied, then added with a small smirk, "Except for Jazz." Jazz couldn't tell if the tactician meant him, or the music, and as part of his effort to get Prowl to relax, Jazz decided to assume the other mech meant him.

"It's always nice to have fans," Jazz said with a smirk, and Prowl gave him an amused look. "Feelin' more relaxed yet?"

"A bit," Prowl admitted, though he still looked a little jumpy.

"Let's see if we can't turn that into 'a lot'. Turn around," Jazz ordered. Prowl gave him a suspicious look, and Jazz wiggled his fingers at the other mech. Prowl frowned, but turned around, though only so that his side was to the room at large, not his back, and he kept glancing behind himself until Jazz settled himself in Prowl's line of view.

Looking at Prowl's back without door wings was a strange sight for Jazz, and he couldn't help but run a gentle finger along where they were supposed to join. The touch caused Prowl to tense up again, so Jazz turned on the magnetic wave emitters in his hands to a low frequency and ran his hands across the empty joints. Prowl began to relax immediately, and Jazz smiled to himself, then focused more intently on his 'massage', making sure every part of Prowl's back was exposed to the gentle magnetic waves. Prowl had visibly relaxed when he was done, and didn't even jump when Jazz stood, just giving the saboteur a quizzical look.

"Lay down," Jazz said, motioning, and Prowl hesitated then. "I'm right here behind ya, Prowl. I promise I'll let you know if some mech miraculously gets past my very non-regulation door lock without making enough noise to be heard on Cybertron, and starts sneakin' up on you." Prowl grunted, glaring mildly at Jazz, but lay down, with his back to the room. Jazz nudged him farther onto the berth, and Prowl obligingly scooted over until his knees were almost against the wall. The empty space on the berth was still rather small - Jazz had yet to get around to getting the help to move Prowl's berth into his room while the tactician was on duty - but there was enough room for Jazz to sit in the right position that he could reach virtually all of Prowl without moving.

After settling himself, Jazz simply looked for a moment, with what he knew had to be a rather stupid grin on his face. He couldn't help it - after all these years, he was finally _allowed_ to look. Even better, he was allowed to touch, to caress, and...well, do other things. Which hopefully he'd get to later tonight, presuming he could get Prowl relaxed without sending the tactician into recharge. Since that would only be accomplished if he actually started the relaxing part, Jazz settled his hands on Prowl's upper back and activated the wave emitters again. This time he added the sonic emitters, as well, and within minutes, Prowl's systems were purring away happily, all tension gone from the other mech's frame.

Jazz was smirking to himself over a job well done when he suddenly realized that Prowl's systems were quieting, as well, and with a frown, he peeked over the tactician's shoulder to look at his face, and found that Prowl was deep in recharge.

"Fiddlesticks," Jazz muttered to himself with slight disappointment. Oh well - there were worse things than having Prowl recharging in his berth, even if he would prefer more. Especially after he had to stay behind while Prowl went out to battle earlier today. He'd had two ulterior motives to his massage, after all - one, to try and get some interfacing, which he'd obviously failed at, but the more important reason was the second anyways, which was to reassure himself that, save for the door wings, Prowl was here, and in one piece. As Jazz settled himself behind Prowl, he couldn't help but run another scan, just to be sure, and inwardly laughed at himself for it. He refused to find anything out of the ordinary about focusing all his sensors on Prowl's systems before heading into recharge himself, though - after all, Prowl's systems were very soothing.

And that would be his excuse for it no matter who asked.

\---

Prowl's door wings were itchy.

This was generally irritating just because it was difficult to reach your own door wings to scratch them. Right now, however, it was much more than simply irritating, since he was quite aware that he currently did not _have_ any door wings. Which led to confusion on his part about how they could be _itchy_ when they weren't even there. His processor presented the idea that maybe First Aid had managed to fix them during the night and re-attached them, but that was ridiculous, since his chronometer told him he'd barely been in recharge for three hours, and he could feel Jazz curled up behind him, which meant he was still in Jazz's quarters. He couldn't stop himself from glancing over his shoulder, however, only to find, as expected, that he remained wingless. His gaze did catch, however, on Jazz's new door wings, and he observed them curiously for a moment, watching as they twitched while Jazz recharged.

After a few moments, Prowl's gaze slid down to Jazz's face, and he recalled Jazz suddenly asking over the battle channel if he was alright, though he'd said nothing about his injuries before that. Prowl considered his next action for a few scant seconds before deciding there was nothing to lose, then reached out and scratched the part of Jazz's door wing that was 'itchy' to him. The relief was immediate, and Prowl smiled slightly as Jazz sighed softly, shifting a bit. The saboteur remained in recharge at first, but as the itchiness faded, the other mech began to wake. Prowl hesitated for a moment, considering drawing back and seeing if Jazz would just go back into recharge, but Prowl himself was awake now, and it was rather frighteningly hard to resist glancing over his shoulder, even though he knew only the wall was behind him. So instead of drawing back, Prowl turned his scratches into caresses, focusing on the saboteur's door wings, much like Jazz usually focused on his door wings.

The saboteur was purring contently by the time his optics turned on, and he gave Prowl a look that was both amused to full of desire. Prowl ignored him, concentrating on the door wings, well aware that he had practically positioned himself on top of Jazz to be able to reach both of them, and Jazz's purring systems were sending vibrations through his own frame. Jazz's hands were both trapped under Prowl because of this, but the saboteur eventually got one free, and Prowl found out just how pleasant it was to have sonic waves pulsing against sensitive wires and oooh, the empty joints for his wings were still so very nicely sensitive, at least when Jazz's hands (when _had_ he gotten the other one out from under Prowl...?) were on them.

"This is a nice way t'wake up," Jazz murmured as he pull Prowl away from his door wings for a moment for a slow, leisurely kiss.

"Your door wings were itchy," Prowl said mildly.

"And that's what you call scratchin' 'em?" Jazz asked with amusement.

"No, this is called groping them..." Prowl said, and demonstrated by reaching back to Jazz's door wings again to do just that. Jazz chuckled, though it hitched in the middle as Prowl found a particularly sensitive spot, and then the saboteur's hands were roaming again. He was twitching now, with vents cycling noisily and strange noises issuing from his vocalizer that could be taken as grunts or moans or a combination of both, and Prowl smirked to himself over the accomplishment. He wasn't immune to gossip from the troops, after all, even if he didn't participate in it, and he knew Jazz had interfaced with quite a few other mechs and femmes while trying to get Prowl. The generally consensus had always seemed to be 'smooth as polished glass even at the height of it'. So to be the one to make Jazz loose that cool, smooth-talking front was rather satisfying. And also a little bit of revenge, since Jazz tended to make Prowl lose his cool, collected exterior with anything from a look to a caress of his now-absent door wings.

"How did y'know they were itchy?" Jazz after a few moments, his voice wobbly, and Prowl redoubled his efforts on the saboteur's door wings. He wanted to see if he could get Jazz to the point where he literally couldn't talk. Not because he didn't want to hear him speak, but because he wanted to see if he could.

"Felt it," Prowl replied absently, leaning up for a moment to give Jazz a fierce kiss, and smirked as that left him looking rather dazed. Despite one of Prowl's hands shifting its attention to the saboteur's sensitive horns, and Prowl's mouth (which the saboteur had commented on being talented before) doing what it could to the parts of Jazz within nibble and kissing range, however, Jazz evidently held on to some piece of control, refusing to overload. Prowl wondered at the reason, even as his own systems purred from both Jazz's hands and the sight and feel of Jazz being so ridiculously close to overload, only to have the answer presented as Jazz's chest armor split open to reveal his spark casing. Prowl smiled faintly, unbridled joy washing over him once again that Jazz loved and trusted him enough for this, and let his own chest armor slide apart.

The meeting of their sparks was surprisingly gentle, both of them skirting along the edges at first, until Jazz reached out and gave Prowl a tug, pulling him in, and the tactician found himself in the pleasantly chaotic mind of his lover. He simply enjoyed the experience at first, until he realized that a specific part of Jazz's mind was not only wide open to him, but beckoning him in, and curiously, he went.

Sensation. Pure, glorious sensation washed over Prowl, and he gasped at the intensity, It wasn't until his own mind automatically began categorizing the sensations that he realized what Jazz had done - he'd opened the controls on the subroutine Prowl had written for him, letting Prowl in to feel everything Jazz's door wing could. It was unexpectedly relieving, releasing tension Prowl hadn't even been aware of, as the world - or at least Jazz's quarters - opened up around him again, and he could _see_ and _feel_ properly once again.

It was a rush, and so powerful that Prowl's systems went into overload after only a few moments, but the tactician clung to the that flow of data, refusing to lose it as his systems went over the edge. He was aware of Jazz overloading as well, but most of his mind was focusing on that data, the feel of the air currents, the chemical composition of the air in the room, the electro-static charge, the temperature, the amount of light, everything and anything, Prowl held onto it all, feeling the changes as the two mechs overloaded, recognizing it from previous times, and rejoicing in being able to do so once again. Unfortunately, it seemed he had well and truly worked Jazz up, as the force of the saboteur's own overload sent him off-line, and with Prowl still in his mind, even if only clinging to that one sub-routine, the tactician went down with his lover into blackness.


	7. Accident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. And sometimes a reaction to the reaction. And then a reaction to the reaction to the reaction. Which is otherwise known as a chain of events leading to an inevitable end...

Jazz wandered into the med bay whistling a jaunty tune, which turned into a broad grin as he heard the wonderful sound of Ratchet threatening to turn the twins into toasters.

"Hey Ratch, feeling better are we?" Jazz asked, still grinning wildly as the agitated medic turned to look at him.

"My _apprentice_ has _bolted me down_ to the slagging _berth,"_ Ratchet snarled, optics flashing, as he pointed at the inconspicuous bolts stopping him from removing his legs from the berth. The comment was followed by howls of laughter from Sunstreaker and Sideswipe - the former still in the med bay, the latter obviously visiting. Trailbreaker and Tracks, the other two mechs in the bay, held their laughter to mere snickers. Jazz himself just grinned wider.

"Really now. Wonder where he got the idea to do that," the saboteur said.

"I think I'll start my own toaster company..." Ratchet said, glaring.

"Oh calm down Ratchet," First Aid said, finally making his appearance. _"Sunstreaker_ is making less of a fuss than you."

"I believe the humans have a saying - doctors make the worst patients," Ratchet said icily. "So why don't you do yourself a favour and let me _leave."_

"But then you'd miss the show," First Aid said dryly.

"Show?" Sideswipe piped up curiously, and in response, the young medic pulled a piece of machinery out of his subspace. Jazz immediately perked up.

"Is that what I think it is?" he asked.

"Your transformation cog, fully repaired," First Aid confirmed with a smile.

"Ooooh..." Jazz said, grinning, and hopped up on a berth.

"Considering what Ratchet said about how uncomfortable your first transformation is going to be, I wouldn't think you'd be this eager," First Aid said with a chuckle.

"Hey, quiet in front!" Ratchet heckled from across the med bay.

"Just putting on a show for the poor, bolted-down medic," Jazz said with a snicker, then ducked as a wrench sailed by his head. Startled, both Jazz and First Aid looked over at Ratchet, but not only had First Aid made sure all throwable tools were well out of Ratchet's reach, but the medic wouldn't have been able to pull his arm back enough to throw it due to _how_ he was bolted down. Which left only the other occupants of the med bay...Sideswipe and Sunstreaker.

"He ordered me to," Sideswipe supplied, pointing to Ratchet, when Jazz and First Aid looked at the twins.

"I'm not even going to bother pointing out that right now you actually _outrank_ Ratchet. Just please refrain from throwing tools in the med bay," First Aid said with a shake of his head. "I get nervous when anyone other than Ratchet does it."

"Why's that?" Sideswipe asked curiously.

"No one else has his aim with tools," First Aid said, turning and motioning for Jazz to lay down so he could put the saboteur's transformation cog back in.

"Except you," Ratchet commented dryly. "Even _I_ can't knock both the twins out with one wrench."

"That was a matter of circumstance," First Aid replied absently as he concentrated on his work.

"Sure it was," Ratchet grunted, looking amused. "All six times you've done it."

"It's not my fault that they keep their attention on you and leave themselves open to flying wrenches from behind," First Aid said.

"Which, if you've noticed, we've stopped doing so much anymore," Sideswipe piped up.

"Only because we both like to know when we're going to be knocked out," Sunstreaker added.

"Otherwise you tend to wake up in battle mode. Believe me, a few of my scars ache at the memories," Ratchet said dryly.

"Pft, you have no scars," Sideswipe said. "No Cybertronian does. If we did, Sunny and I would be nothing but giant scars ourselves."

"I meant mental scars," Ratchet said snippily. "And you two wouldn't be giant scars because I end up having to replace almost all your parts over the course of every year or two."

"Even ze vocalizer?" Sideswipe asked in a German accent, suddenly grinning.

"Even ze vocalizer," Sunstreaker deadpanned in response. "You are such a dork, Sides."

"And you both have the attention span of goldfish," Ratchet said, shaking his head.

"Unless killing Decepticons is involved," Sideswipe amended, and Ratchet snorted.

"I've heard you during battle," he said. "No attention span there, either." Sideswipe looked insulted, and a round of more serious bickering probably would have broken out, but First Aid straightened and announced that he was done, thereby drawing attention back to Jazz and him.

"Time to test it out, and get rid of those door wings," First Aid said, stepping back as Jazz sat up, flexing said appendages - which he'd been laying on to make things easier for the young medic.

"I dunno, I kind of like them," Jazz said, grinning smugly as he thought back to the night before, with Prowl. _That_ had been an intense overload, and he wouldn't mind doing it again at all. However, he still needed to test out the cog, and so hopped down from the berth and went to the center of the med bay before initiating his transformation sequence. Warnings immediately began to blare in his ears, but he'd already modified his own transformation sequence quite a few times - one did not, alas, get built with the sort of swan-dive transformation he was now sporting - so it was a simple matter for him to override them and force the sequence to go forwards.

And, as usual, it hurt, but even more so now because of the door wings, which were not used to this kind of activity. They'd never gone through a transformation sequence this way before, and they were voicing their protest through large amounts of pain. It wasn't enough to get more than a grunt from Jazz, however, so Ratchet and the twins must have been slightly disappointed. Jazz didn't really pay attention, instead focusing on the end results, including a few quick simulations about alternate method of transformation that might give him back door wings at some point should he want them. The result were not promising, but Jazz could work that out later. For now, he had other matters to deal with - matters like a red Lamborghini sitting with its front bumper against his, engine revving challengingly. Jazz's response was a rev of his own engine, and then with a squeal of tires, the two of them tore out of the med bay, leaving behind the irritated shouts of all three of the remaining occupants.

\---

With his transformation capabilities returned, Jazz suddenly found himself with a whole host of things to do, places to go, and people and mechs to visit. He hadn't quite realized all that he'd _stopped_ doing when his transformation cog had been damaged, because he'd been so caught up in his new relationship with Prowl. Now, however, with Prowl on monitor duty and a sudden sense of freedom, he decided to catch up on everything he'd been procrastinating because he couldn't transform. He spent the day driving around the nearby countryside, visiting the various Autobots out on long-term minor missions or the Autobots' various human friends.

Jazz even joined Hound and Blaster on patrol for a few miles, getting himself thoroughly muddy before heading back to the Ark, where he hunted down Mirage and 'accidentally' ran into the other mech. The ensuing chase lasted most of the rest of the afternoon, as Mirage apparently had nothing better to do than to follow his superior officer around with a pail of mud in his subspace, just waiting for a chance to get close enough. Which was fine, since Jazz had nothing better to do than _be_ chased, and it was a good training exercise...right up until Mirage cheated and used his cloak to sneak up behind Jazz and dump mud over him right as he was sitting down to have his evening energon in the rec room. There was dead silence as Mirage uncloaked with a smirk in front of Jazz, who was now dripping in mud. The rest of the mechs watched, waiting to see what Jazz would do, but he merely leaned forward and peered mournfully into his energon.

"My energon is all muddy..." he said pitifully. Mirage let out an exasperated noise and stomped over to the energon dispenser while the rest of the mechs started laughing. The spy returned to the table with a replacement cube of energon for Jazz, and one for himself, and the two quickly began discussing the various methods they'd used in the chase that afternoon, with other mechs piping up at different parts, ready to put in their two cents on the matter.

So Prowl found Jazz almost an hour later, still covered in the mud Mirage had dumped over him, but seemingly oblivious to it as he, Mirage, and Bumblebee informed Cliffjumper and Bluestreak as to which of the bigger bots in the Ark were the best to hide behind. Thanks to Jazz and Mirage's hijinks throughout the later afternoon, most of the mechs in the rec room were in a good mood, laughing and joking, and so caught up in their conversations that no one actually noticed Prowl's quiet entrance. Indeed, he probably would've gotten away with getting his energon and slipping out again, as he seemed to be planning on doing, had Bluestreak not gone to get a refill of energon right as Prowl got his own cube.

As soon as the gunner spotted Prowl, of course, he grabbed him and almost literally dragged him over to the table where Jazz was, giving up his own seat next to the saboteur and forcing Prowl into it before getting himself a new chair. Jazz's greeting for Prowl was off-handed and casual, but Prowl didn't seem to care, merely nodding politely to his new table companions, murmuring a response to Jazz, and then sitting back and sipping his energon with an ever-increasing frown of confusion on his face. Prowl and Jazz didn't notice it, but the rest of the table companions noticed that the longer Prowl sat there, quietly puzzling over whatever was bothering him, the more distracted Jazz became, frequently glancing over at his lover only to pull himself back to the conversation at hand. So it wasn't really any surprise to the now very amused other mechs when Jazz suddenly bid them goodnight.

"I could stay here all night, but last time I checked my schedule, I was back to my early morning patrol tomorrow, and Prowl's got monitor duty around the same time, so we'd better get going," Jazz excused himself easily, then nudged Prowl as he stood up. The Datsun started badly, clearly so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he hadn't been paying attention, and those at the table chuckled. "C'mon Prowl, time for some recharge."

"Of course," Prowl said, recovering quickly, and stood quickly, making a beeline for the door.

"Good luck with him tonight," Mirage commented as they watched him go. "He seems too distracted to fall for your wiles."

"Oh don't worry, the Jazz-man has ways," Jazz said with a grin, then sauntered out, leaving Bluestreak shuddering and exclaiming how he didn't want to hear things like that. Of course, Jazz realized he might have some trouble when he found that Prowl hadn't even waited for him. The tactician was halfway down the hall already, and Jazz had to run to catch up. The last time Jazz had seen the tactician this confused over something had been right before he'd realized Jazz had feelings for him, and that had only been for a few seconds.

He'd found it rather attractive even in those few seconds though - Prowl was normally such an in-control mech that when he got confused, it was...exciting, especially for a mech of Jazz's chosen profession, where the best thing that could happen on a mission would be for his enemies to be confused. Not that Prowl was an enemy, but having him so confused stirred up the same type of excitement in Jazz, and slag if what the common gossip said about special ops mechs and femmes wasn't correct - nothing made one hornier than having a mission go blissfully, wonderfully right. And watching a confused Prowl for the last few hours had done nothing if not gotten Jazz worked up.

The only problem was, of course, that Prowl seemed so wrapped up in whatever was confusing him that he didn't even seem to notice Jazz following him. Or so Jazz thought. It wasn't until the doors to Prowl's quarters had shut behind them that he discovered that Prowl did, in fact, know he was following, and that was thanks to Prowl suddenly walking around behind Jazz, irritably forcing the saboteur to remain facing forwards, and then begin poking around his back.

"Aid repaired my transformation cog, if you're wondering where they went," Jazz shot back curiously, peering over his shoulder and wondering what Prowl was up to, even while hoping he'd finish soon so he could get on with jumping the tactician. Prowl gave him an irritated look, and then his hand suddenly dug into a seam in Jazz's armour. It was almost painful, but mostly pleasurable, especially once Prowl started wiggling his fingers around, and Jazz couldn't hold back a moan. Then Prowl managed to brush against something that was rather sensitive, due to having been exposed to the world recently, and Jazz staggered, putting out a hand to steady himself, before abruptly turning and backing Prowl up against the door, intending to return the grope. Prowl seemed completely distracted again, however, and completely _calm,_ despite the fact that he'd just blatantly groped Jazz, and the saboteur was now leaning over him, obviously revved up and ready to jump him. Jazz watched in a mixture of astonishment and bemusement for a few moments before bracing his hands on either side of Prowl's head and bringing himself nose-to-nose with his lover.

"Prowl," he stated, and there was a pause before Prowl focused his attention on the saboteur, giving him a quizzical look. _"What_ is going through that processor of yours?"

"Nothing important," Prowl said absently, already turning his attention away from Jazz.

"Really. So why does it have you so distracted?" Jazz asked, and Prowl gave him a partially irritated look.

"Because it's...confusing," he confessed after a moment. "I apologise if my distraction bothers you."

"No need to apologise, just explain to me what's so confusing?" Jazz asked.

"As I said, it's nothing important," Prowl said, shifting slightly, and Jazz realized incredulously that Prowl was _lying_ to him. It took a few moments for him to get over his shock, and when he did, he grinned widely.

"Why Prowler, I do believe you're lying," he said, and Prowl gave him an irritated look. The tactician looked ready to deny it, but Jazz cut him off before he could say anything, "It's kinda hot." _That_ stopped Prowl short, and he gave Jazz an odd look. "Mostly because it means I'll have to do my best to get the truth out of you." Jazz concluded in a purr, and it seemed like Prowl became aware, for the first time, of just how close they were, and that Jazz was quite obviously turned on. He didn't have time to say anything in response, though, as Jazz captured his lips in a searing kiss. He didn't stop there, either, let his hands wander even as he pressed in as close as their builds would allow. In other words, he did his best to present Prowl with so many pleasant sensations at once that the tactician would become completely distracted from whatever he was thinking about.

Apparently, he did even better than he'd thought, as when he tried to pull away to make some sort of snappy remark, Prowl did not seem inclined to let him. The tactician wrapped a leg around Jazz's own legs, and brought his hands up to the back of Jazz's neck, pulling him back in when he tried to move. Jazz was quite fine with this - he'd been planning on ambushing Prowl with questions AFTER overloading, anyways. Wouldn't do to get Prowl all distracted and needing a solution while Jazz was standing there with a revving engine and a burning desire to reaffirm his and Prowl's relationship. So Jazz really had no problems giving in, letting his hands wander.

But Prowl, it seemed, wasn't into the 'wandering' thing tonight...everywhere the tactician's hands went seemed purposeful, since everywhere his hands went were Jazz's most sensitive spots. Prowl was so quick about it that Jazz didn't even realize he'd lost control of the situation until his back hit the wall, and he realized Prowl had managed to practically reverse their positions. The saboteur debated trying to regain control, but when Prowl's hands hit just the right spot, and pleasure rippled through all of Jazz's systems, the thought was practically fried from his processor. From there on, it was the best he could do to keep up with the sudden rather aggressive Prowl as both their systems revved higher, nearing overload within minutes.

Then, like the eye of a storm, Prowl suddenly stilled as both their spark chambers opened, instinct causing them both to expose their sparks at the same moment. It was almost calming, the meeting and melding of their sparks, and it was then that Jazz remember his entire reason for starting this. He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help but poke slightly into Prowl's mind, try to find out what the tactician was confused about. What he found confused him, as well - because there seemed to be a stream of data linking their minds already, a silver chain of sparkling energy that pulsed in a stable rhythm. Curious, Jazz reached out to it mentally - and suddenly Prowl was beside him, staying him, figuratively grabbing his hand.

Emotions, memories, flowed through Jazz - Prowl waking up, feeling better, and kissing Jazz goodbye before heading off to his shift. Then feeling disoriented the farther away from his quarters he walked, but eventually recovering, blocking the sensation. A cube of energon, reporting for duty, relieving a grumpier-than-normal Gears, settling himself for his shift. Then sudden white-hot pain, rippling up and down his back where his door wings would be - pain enough to cause him to shut down for a minute or two. He woke in a panic, already looking for Jazz. When he discovered that the saboteur had just left the med bay, he realized what had happened - but that didn't quite explain the odd sensation he now had of sunshine and wind. He tried to ignore it, anyways, and continue with his shift, but couldn't help but be distracted as the day wore on and the odd sensations continued to change.

Somewhere in there, his shift ended, and someone suggested he get some energon since he was looking a little dazed. He wandered off to the rec room just to stop whoever it was from worrying, and was grabbed by Bluestreak. Fast-forward to the walk back to his quarters, when he realized the odd disorienting sensation had gone away, and, suspicious, he'd dug his fingers into Jazz's innards looking for the saboteurs now-hidden doors. A brush against them, which he felt, and he figured out what he'd been feeling, but wasn't sure what it meant. And then he saw this - this tenuous connection, linking him and Jazz together.

A thought occurred to Jazz - _permanent?_ The answering response from Prowl was both a denial, a confirmation, and a sarcastic _you think I know?_ Amusement rippled between them, then Jazz reached out to do what Prowl had stopped him from doing before - probing the connection. And suddenly he was swept along, into a morass of images, thoughts, feelings, memories, ideas....it overwhelmed him, and he would have shut down had it not been for the hand that reached in and pulled him out...

...and then Jazz came to his senses as Prowl jerked away, staggered backwards, spark still exposed. Jazz sagged against the wall, drained from the odd experience, but oddly euphoric. He had a feeling he should be concerned, or worried about what just happened, or at least wondering _what_ had happened, but all he could summon the energy to do was stare goofily up at the ceiling. He wasn't even sure if he'd overloaded somewhere during the whole thing, though he certainly felt as if he was very slowly coming down from an overload. _Very_ slowly. Eventually, Jazz summoned the will to look over at Prowl, and found the tactician sprawled on the floor, looking curiously up at the ceiling.

"It's called a ceiling," Jazz snickered.

"I know that, Jazz," Prowl replied with exasperation. "I was...attempting to figure out what you just did."

"Hey, I'm not the only one at fault here," Jazz said. "And why are we assigning blame?"

"Not blaming. Just trying to understand," Prowl replied evenly. "You are, without a doubt, the most confusing mech I have _ever_ met. And my life has only gotten more and more confusing the closer I've gotten to you."

"Is this a problem?" Jazz asked.

"No, it's quite...refreshing," Prowl decided, and Jazz snickered at that.

"I'm refreshing?" he asked, still laughing, and Prowl raised his head to look at the saboteur and then shook his head before letting it fall back down with a slight _clang._ There was a moment of quiet, and then Prowl slowly lifted his head again, and curious expression on his face.

"Jazz?" he asked.

"Yeah Prowl?" Jazz replied, then frowned at Prowl just continued to stare at him. And then, suddenly, unexpectedly, the tactician...snickered. The snicker grew, and within moments Prowl was full-out laughing, something Jazz had never seen before. The saboteur could only watch for a few moments, taking in the unusual sight and sound.

"Uh...Prowl? Y'alright there?" Jazz asked, finally recovering from the shock. Prowl waved a hand vaguely, still laughing. Jazz, not knowing whether that was a 'yes, fine' or a 'no, please help me', pushed away from the wall and cautiously approached the tactician. When he crouched down and reached out, resting a hand on Prowl's shoulder, the other mech quickly quieted himself, looking Jazz in the visor, an amused smirk on his lips.

"Only us," the tactician said with a chuckle.

"Only us what?" Jazz asked blankly, then gasped at a ghost sensation of hands running along his hidden door wings. Before he could recover, Prowl had wrapped an arm behind his neck and pulled himself up to capture Jazz's mouth in a passionate kiss, and then images popped into the saboteur's processor, extremely...nice images. And oddly, they were all from Prowl's...point...of...view... Jazz's processor stuttered to a stop as he realized what was going on. When it started up again, he looked up into Prowl's smirking face and began laughing.

"Only us indeed," Jazz snickered as he slowly calmed himself down. "This should be interesting."

"Very, I'm sure," Prowl said dryly. "I think we're going to be off battle duty for a little while longer."

"Hey, as long as I'm not stuck behind _alone_ again, I think I can handle it," Jazz said with amusement, then added slightly wonderingly, "Though I guess I'll never really be _alone_ ever again."

"No, you won't," Prowl said softly. And though they spoke softly for several more minutes before going to the med bay, not a word was heard in the room, nor had one been heard in the past ten minutes.

\---

"An accident," Ratchet stared disbelievingly at the two officers standing in front of him. First Aid had gone for recharge for the night, and since there were rarely any injuries during the night and Ratchet was mostly repaired anyways, the CMO had actually been let up from his berth.

"More of an unintentional consequence," Jazz supplied.

"I believe that's one of the definitions of an 'accident', Jazz," Prowl intoned.

"OK, so it was an accident then," Jazz said, giving Prowl a grin, and the tactician shook his head, but Ratchet couldn't help but notice that Prowl was smiling slightly.

"Alright...alright. I'll advise Prime that your recommendations for continued removal from the battle duty roster have good reasoning," Ratchet said, trying to plow his way through the oddness of a smiling Prowl. "Just...tell me one thing. How the _frag_ do you accidentally bond?!"


	8. Interference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Private lives? What're those? Those don't exist among the Cybertronians on Earth. Silly officers.

"Slaggit, we're going to have to blow it," Sideswipe cursed as he tried his last trick to get past Jazz's door lock.

"And alert everyone in the Ark as to what we're doing?" Sunstreaker said irritably. "I told you this wouldn't work. Give it up and let's go find something else to do."

"No, I refuse. I have put enough into this that I am going to see it through to the end!" Sideswipe declared hotly.

"You've spent _fifteen minutes_ trying to _open his slagging door,"_ Sunstreaker snarled in reply. "It takes you more time to _plan_ most of your pranks than that, let alone carry them out. Compared to most of your plans, _fifteen minutes_ is nothing. So just let it _go_ and let's go find something else to do!" Sideswipe scowled at his brother.

"I may have only been trying to open the door for fifteen minutes, but do you know how slagging hard it was to re-route the alarms? The cameras? How long _that_ took? And how many favours I had to pull in to make sure that almost every officer was occupied for the majority of the day, with only three days notice? Prowl was the only one I couldn't manage, and his shift is only four hours today, so I'm not about to just _give up,"_ Sideswipe said defiantly.

"I _told_ you from the beginning that you wouldn't be able to get past Jazz's lock. If you'd believed me then, accepted than you're not the god of lock-picking, you wouldn't have had to put so much _time_ into getting this far, only to find out you can't do what I _told_ you you wouldn't be able to," Sunstreaker replied heatedly.

"But I have put this much _time_ into it, and now I am not going to slagging give up! I'll just go get a minor explosive from Wheeljack’s' lab. You wait here," Sideswipe said, stepping away from the wall, and Sunstreaker snorted.

"There is no such thing as a _minor_ explosive in Wheeljack's lab, and I am _not_ staying here!" Sunstreaker said, following his brother as he headed off.

"On the contrary, both of you will be staying right here and explaining precisely what you think you're doing," a deep voice rumbled from behind them, and Sideswipe and Sunstreaker froze. Slowly, they looked behind - and then up.

"Oh, uh, heh, hi Prime. Sir," Sideswipe said nervously as Optimus Prime scowled down at the twins.

 _::I am going to slagging kill you,::_ Sunstreaker snarled vehemently over their bond.

\---

The shift had been the longest of Prowl's long life, despite being only a half shift. Though he and Jazz had informed Ratchet of their unintentional, but definitely not unpleasant, accident the night before, they had decided to keep it quiet for now, and so gone about their usual duties. Ratchet had advised against it, but both of them had agreed that it would be better if the news of their bonding wasn't spread around. The Decepticons could take advantage of it, for one, and for another, the news would inevitably work its way to the humans, and Spike and Sparkplug were still trying to get over the latest gossip of Jazz and Prowl being 'an item', as they put it. The concept of Cybertronian 'marriage' would probably be too much for them to handle, especially considering their organic view of gender and relationships.

Both reasons, however, were wearing rather thin for Prowl. He understood now - four hours, ten minutes, and three seconds after saying goodbye to Jazz for the day - why Ratchet had told them with amusement they wouldn't be able to do it. They were good, he had said, but not that good. They were still normal mechs. Their bond needed time to settle, so that they wouldn't feel the constant need to be close to each other. Until it did, they would be uncomfortable anytime they were apart. Jazz had made some sort of flippant response, Prowl had simply replied that this was necessary, and therefore they would do it. Then they had left to get ready for their shifts, and from the moment they had parted, everything had gone downhill.

It wasn't like he was in physical or emotional pain, but Prowl found that the longer he sat at his desk, going through reports, the more irritable he became. The more distracted. He kept glancing around, expecting, wanting, Jazz to be there, and every time the saboteur wasn't there, he was disappointed. He could have reached out through the newly-formed bond, but Jazz was attending an elementary school concert put on in honour of the Autobots, and with him at the center of attention of a large number of pre-teen humans and their parents and teachers, distracting him would probably be a bad idea. So instead Prowl tried to deal with it, but found it more and more difficult. By the end of his shift, he'd given up entirely on doing work, and for the last ten minutes, had simply sat in his chair, arms folded on the desk in front of him and head cocked slightly to the side as he watched his internal chronometer count down. He swore that it slowed down as he watched it, even though one hundred and sixty-two self-diagnostics on it said otherwise.

When it was finally time for the end of his shift, Prowl rose from his desk and walked out of his office without a backwards glance, and didn't stop until he'd reached his quarters, not even to say hello to the mechs he passed. All he wanted was to curl up on the berth and wait for Jazz to get back so he could convince his lover - no, bond-mate - that they'd be wrong and he didn't slagging care who knew, as long as he could have Jazz all to himself for the next month, which was how long Ratchet had said he would have recommended before returning them to any sort of active duty.

Distracted as Prowl was by these pleasant thoughts, it took him until he was standing by his berth to realize that something was very, very wrong with his quarters. The most obvious thing, since it was right in front of him, was that the berth was bigger. Much bigger. In fact, he'd dare say it had doubled in size. Slowly, he turned around to look over the rest of his quarters, and while it wasn't expected, he was somehow not surprised to see the other new additions, all of which were almost as familiar to him as his own things. Eyeing it all consideringly, he decided to contact Jazz to see what the saboteur had to say for himself.

 _"Prowl to Jazz,"_ Prowl called over a private comm line, not trusting himself to reach out over their bond when he knew Jazz was still at the concert.

 _"Jazz here. What's up, Prowler?"_ Jazz asked, his happiness at hearing from his bondmate clear in his voice.

 _"Were you aware that all your things have been moved out of your quarters?"_ Prowl asked. Silence.

 _"To where?"_ Jazz asked, sounding wary.

 _"My quarters,"_ Prowl replied.

 _"Huh. Someone saved me calling in a favour, I guess."_ Jazz sounded amused.

 _"Oh?"_ Prowl inquired, and Jazz chuckled over the line, and pleasant signals shot through Prowl at the wonderful sound.

 _"Yeah, I was gonna get the twins to haul your stuff into mine, since you had less, but apparently someone decided to take the initiative,"_ Jazz said.

 _"Were you going to ask me before you had them do that?"_ Prowl inquired.

 _"Probably, maybe, not,"_ Jazz replied casually. _"We're always in each other's quarters anyways now. Figured you wouldn't mind. Do you?"_

 _"It appears I have little choice in the matter,"_ Prowl said dryly, though he let a teasing edge enter his voice so Jazz knew he didn't mind. _"There is one thing puzzling about this, however."_

 _"What's that?"_ Jazz asked.

 _"You lock your quarters every morning when you leave, do you not?"_ Prowl asked, and there was a long pause before muffled cursing came from Jazz's end. _"I'll pay a visit to Red Alert, see if I can find out who did it."_

 _"And when you find out who it was, let me know. I want to know how they got past my lock,"_ Jazz said grimly. Prowl answered an affirmative, then cut the line. He didn't pause, didn't stop to think, as he headed out of his quarters. With something tangible to focus on, something related to Jazz, he found it easier to push aside that empty feeling of not having Jazz around. He stopped by Jazz's quarters first, inspecting the lock before stepping inside. The place was barren, devoid of everything - only Jazz's secret compartments, where he held the special gear that was technically illegal for him to own, even as head of special ops, remained untouched. Whoever had emptied Jazz's quarters, then, had either not known of them, or chosen not to move them. Frowning in both confusion and frustration at the lack of evidence, Prowl left the room and continued on to the security office. Red Alert was waiting for him, spinning around to face the door and speaking as soon as Prowl stepped inside.

"Is something wrong, Prowl?" the security officer asked.

"Yes. I would like to see the video from the security cameras outside the officer's quarters for the last four hours," Prowl said evenly. Red Alert frowned at the request, but turned and punched a few numbers into his console, and the main screen in the office brought up an image of the hall outside the officer's quarters, quite plainly showing Jazz's door, and just barely showing Prowl's - more than enough to see anyone hauling things between them, however. After several minutes with no action, Red Alert sped up the recording without prompting, first to twice normal, then three, four, five, going all the way up to ten times normal speed, but nothing moved, not even a shadow. Bumblebee passed through the corridor for no discernible reason, not lingering even slightly, and Wheeljack fetched something from his quarters, but other than that, there was no movement. Frowning, Prowl stepped forward and accessed the file information, and found that it was, indeed, today's recording.

"You're sure this hasn't been tampered with?" Prowl asked.

"As sure as I can be with mechs like Jazz and Mirage running around. Really, how you and Prime expect me to keep security up around here with bots wandering around that hack into my security mainframe every other day is beyond me. If you would just enforce the punishments for such infractions instead of turning a blank optic, it would go a long way towards curtailing their activities and allowing me to actually keep the Ark _secure,"_ Red Alert grumbled.

"Jazz is on a mission outside the Ark today, and Mirage is spying on the Decepticons," Prowl replied evenly. "Is there anyone else that could have altered the video?"

"Anyone on the special ops teams. Sideswipe. Wheeljack. Perceptor. Prime. You and me," Red Alert rattled off, and Prowl arched an optic ridge at him.

"Prime?" he inquired.

"His command overrides would allow him access to the system without leaving any sort of a trace if he wanted to," Red Alert replied reasonably, then gave Prowl a suspicious look. "Why are you so convinced that the video has been altered? Have you discovered a security breach that you haven't informed me of? It is your duty to inform me of any potential security breaches, you know."

"It's nothing major, simply a few things rearranged in my quarters. I'm quite sure the usual pranksters are to blame," Prowl said reassuringly, trying to stave off the security officer's paranoia.

"Breaking into an officer's quarters is a security breach of the highest level - " Red Alert protested, but Prowl raised a hand, the and the security officer quieted sullenly.

"I agree, especially in this case. Once I have evidence as to who was involved, I will allow you to deal with them as you see fit," Prowl replied easily, and Red Alert looked honestly surprised at that. "Whoever it was managed to get past Jazz's door, as well." Red Alert frowned.

"That's almost impossible. There's only four mechs on the Ark that could do that, as well as alter the security tapes," he said.

"Oh?" Prowl asked curiously.

"Jazz, you, me, and Prime," Red Alert replied succinctly. "At least without leaving any damage."

"Really," Prowl said, arching an optic ridge, and Red Alert nodded.

"And as Jazz has, as you said, been out on a mission for the four hours in question, you are the one inquiring about the breach, and I have been on duty, that leaves only Prime," Red Alert said, then paused a moment before adding, "Unless Jazz gave someone else the code to access his quarters." Prowl immediately shook his head, knowing Jazz hadn't. Jazz hadn't left his door unlocked when he wasn't inside, and had kept his door code close, ever since he'd started keeping things in those special compartments. It was for that reason that Optimus and Prowl ignored the existence of those compartments, and their contents and their occasional uses. They knew and trusted Jazz to keep the items secure, and only use them when absolutely necessary.

"Then the culprit has to be Prime," Red Alert declared, and seemed to realize what he'd just said only moments later, giving Prowl an odd look. "Why would Prime rearrange some things in both your and Jazz's quarters?"

"Good question," Prowl said, glancing at the screens. "I'll let you know when I find out." With that, Prowl turned and left the office, leaving a muttering Red Alert to get back to his cameras, though in all likelihood, the security officer would be digging through the system to try and find out more about this newest 'security breach'. Outside the office, Prowl hesitated on where to go - he couldn't exactly march up to Optimus and ask him if he'd done it, and as big and strong as the Autobot leader was, he couldn't have moved all of Jazz's things into Prowl's quarters in only four hours by himself. Then again, if Optimus had been involved, then there was really no reason to worry, since he would have had the code to Jazz's quarters and wouldn't have had to break past the lock.

 _"Jazz,"_ Prowl called again over the comm line.

 _"Figure out who it was?"_ Jazz replied, easily knowing who it was.

 _"Optimus,"_ Prowl replied dryly, and there was silence on the other end.

 _"Huh. Wow. Shoulda figured, after he set us up on that bogus mission in the first place,"_ Jazz mused.

 _"...he did_ what?" Prowl asked incredulously.

 _"Didn't I tell you about that?"_ Jazz said in surprise.

 _"No, I don't believe you did,"_ Prowl said evenly.

 _"Heh. Yeah, that mission where -"_ Jazz's transmission abruptly cut off, and Prowl straightened in alarm. It was only a few moments before the tentative touch came over the bond. _::Transmission's being blocked. Better get some mechs out here.::_ So much more could be conveyed over the bond than the comm line - Prowl could feel that Jazz was as jittery as him at being separated, and now worried and tense at the prospect of an oncoming battle. Ratchet had been adamant that while they could maybe handle light duty, he would personally put them on medical leave if they so much as thought of going into battle, since they'd be a danger to themselves and others with a newly-forged, unsettled bond.

 _::I'll let them know,::_ Prowl said, sending encouragement and his own longing back over the bond. Jazz replied with a burst of warmth, of his love, and then the bond subsided. Prowl didn't pause, breaking into a run as he headed for the control room, calling a battle alert as he went.

"Prowl, I haven't gotten any alert," Blaster said with a frown, though he was frantically scanning through channels as Prowl rushed into the control room.

"Try contacting Jazz," Prowl said succinctly, and Blaster did so.

"Dead air. Slag. Soundwave's there," Blaster cursed. "What could he possibly want with an elementary school? That's a residential neighbourhood, there's nothing of value there."

"Except Jazz," Prowl said, his processor automatically presenting the reason. It took a moment for what he's said to catch up to him, and he froze for a moment before continuing on as usual. Inside, however, he was almost in a panic. Without even thinking, he added himself to the battle group heading out. Since he and Jazz hadn't gotten around to telling Optimus - and apparently neither had Ratchet, and the medic was on bed rest again today - there was no one to object as he joined them. Optimus did make a comment about him supposed to not be on battle duty by his own recommendation, but didn't say anything else, since he knew Prowl's reason. If Jazz was in danger, Prowl was going after him, end of story.

It seemed to take forever for Skyfire to get them to the elementary school, and by the time they got there, it was obvious that Jazz had acted immediately. The school was fine, but Jazz was gone, leaving confused and saddened children. Optimus had a quick conversation with the principal, explaining the situation, and the woman nodded before headed off to give her students some excuse for Jazz's sudden departure. Most of them were already mollified simply because they got to see Optimus Prime, if even for a short bit.

"He's not here. The principal said he ran off unexpectedly, heading northwards. Knowing Jazz, he could be anywhere by now, and with Soundwave in the area jamming transmissions..." Optimus said, shaking his head.

"He's that way," Prowl said, pointing, instinctively knowing where his bondmate was. When everyone else stared at him incredulously, Prowl growled in annoyance and stomped off, wishing he could transform as he headed in Jazz's direction. Optimus and the others followed after a short time, and though Optimus repeatedly asked Prowl over the comm line how he knew Jazz was in this direction, Prowl didn't respond, especially when the first feeling of pain came over the bond. Breaking into a run, it didn't take him long after that to find the large park where Soundwave and his cassettes had finally caught up with Jazz.

Though he was by no means a melee mech - he had the skills for close combat, but he did better at ranged, and had less armour than a melee mech should have - Prowl didn't even hesitate to launch himself at Soundwave. His momentum actually caused the larger mech to lose his balance, sending them both crashing to the ground. Almost hysterical amusement filtered over the bond, Jazz apparently having seen the leap and thought it was entertaining. Prowl pushed that aside as he crouched over Soundwave, glaring down at the larger blue mech.

"This was a very, very bad idea," he hissed at the Decepticon. Soundwave made no reply, instead tossing the tactician off without much trouble, but Prowl was able to roll with his landing and spring up again. By this time, the other Autobots had caught up to Prowl and transformed, but apparently Soundwave hadn't come without back-up just in case. The screaming of jet engines overhead alerted the Autobots to the arrival of the Seekers, and Optimus quickly ordered Bluestreak and Cliffjumper to try and shoot them down. He may have, perhaps, ordered Prowl to break away from Soundwave and join them, but honestly, Prowl wasn't paying attention, his attention focused on Soundwave. The blue mech seemed surprised that Prowl was willing to face off against him, and motioned for one of his cassettes to take care of the tactician.

"Oh frag no," Rumble declared indignantly, and Soundwave and Prowl both looked at the cassetticon in surprise. "No way am I fighting a slagged off bond-mate. You can have the pleasure." With that, the cassette trotted off to join his brothers trying to pin down Jazz. The saboteur wasn't giving them an easy time of it, and for now, they seemed evenly matched. Slowly, Prowl turned back to face Soundwave. The Decepticon stared back impassively.

"Opinion: about time," the blue mech stated, then attacked, and Prowl had no time to contemplate the strange comment as he attempted to ward off the larger mech's attacks. Somewhere at the back of his mind, Prowl heard Optimus telling him to disengage and let him handle Soundwave, but he didn't listen. Prowl was, after all, holding his own - for now. He was far more agile, and Soundwave was used to having his cassettes to back him up. But while they seemed content to attack Jazz, none of them seemed to want to go near Prowl.

It wasn't long, anyways, before the inevitable happened. Either Megatron watching from afar, or Starscream flying overhead, decided that the battle wasn't worth it anymore, and sounded the retreat. The Decepticons neatly disengaged themselves - they were getting rather good at that, Prowl mused unkindly - and took to the air. Prowl made sure to get a few more shots in after they took to the air, then went to make sure Jazz was alright.

"I'm fine," Jazz said dismissively as Prowl walked up, grinning widely. "But Prowler, was that ever a sight to see, you takin' on Soundwave."

"He attacked you," Prowl replied logically. "Therefore, I attacked him." Jazz snickered, and then an irritated noise to Prowl's right suddenly made him aware of the fact that they were not alone. Looking over, he and Jazz found Optimus standing a few yards away, frowning down at them.

"I believe you two have some explaining to do," he said sternly when he realized he had their attention.

"No more than you do. Sir," Prowl replied flatly, and there was an unnatural stillness as the other Autobots realized that Prowl had just back-talked Optimus. Optimus himself stared at his second-in-command in surprise. "Or would you be denying setting us up on a false mission and later over-riding Jazz's door lock and altering the Ark security video?" Optimus gave Prowl a calculating look.

"I had nothing to do with altering the security video," the Autobot leader said after a moment, and Jazz snickered next to Prowl. The Autobot leader then turned away and went to check on the other mechs, calling for Skyfire as he went.

\---

It was all over the Ark by evening. Everywhere Prowl and Jazz went, mechs grinned knowingly at them, and it was slowly driving the tactician insane. Jazz loved every minute of the attention, and would have gone to the rec room to bask in more of Prowl had not seen where he was heading after First Aid fixed his dents from the battle. Much to the amusement of the other mechs in the hall, Prowl grabbed Jazz by one of his horns, causing the saboteur to yelp, and hauled him off to his - their - quarters. Not that Jazz struggled much once they got back there. There were, as he put it, so many more possibilities now that the berth was bigger, and they spent the night exploring many of those possibilities.

And, while they were otherwise occupied, the other residents of the Ark...plotted.

"Ratchet. It's good to see you up and about. What can I do for you?" Prowl asked the next morning when Ratchet entered his office not five minutes after Prowl himself had.

"Get your aft down to med bay for starters," Ratchet said sternly, and Prowl gave the medic a curious look.

"All my injuries from yesterday were taken care of," he said.

"And yet you're still missing something," Ratchet said, pointing behind the tactician, and to the medic's eternal astonishment, Prowl brightened visibly, grinning slightly.

"My door wings are repaired," he said, his voice amazingly even considering how happy he looked.

"And I'll put them back on if you stop smiling like that. You're creeping me out," Ratchet said, glaring at the tactician. Prowl actually _laughed,_ which led to Jazz sending inquiring thoughts over the bond. And if Ratchet thought he had it bad, well, Jazz hadn't thought that Prowl even knew what giddy was, let alone could pull it off. Regardless, Prowl calmed himself as requested as he followed Ratchet to the med bay. To make things easier, Ratchet put Prowl into stasis while he and First Aid re-attached the door wings and re-activated Prowl's transformation sequence.

And while they were doing that, Skyfire sent an innocent page to Jazz, saying he wanted to talk to him about something, and could he please come outside? Jazz went, blissfully unaware of any foul play...right up until Ratchet stomped up Skyfire's ramp carrying his unconscious bondmate, dropped said bondmate in the nearest chair, wished them a nice vacation, and left.

"Don't even try, Jazz," Skyfire said with amusement as the saboteur tried to get out of the seat he'd so innocently settled in. Seatbelts now held him firmly in place, and knowing that they were a part of Skyfire, Jazz wasn't about to cut through them. Jazz glared at the console for a moment, then finally chuckled.

"So whose idea was this?" he asked.

"Ironhide's," Skyfire replied. "Well, actually, I think technically you have Sentinel Prime to blame for this, since Ironhide got the idea from having the same thing done to himself and Chromia by Sentinel."

"What is it with Prime's suddenly being sneaky? Or at least me finally finding out about it?" Jazz mused.

"Perhaps you just hadn't annoyed a Prime enough for them to show you their sneaky side until recently," the shuttle responded.

"Guess so. Where we going, anyways?" Jazz asked curiously.

"Someplace called the 'Bahamas'," Skyfire answered, and Jazz grinned, leaning back and relaxing in the seat.

"Well, you shoulda said so from the start!" he said.

"If we'd told you, Prowl would have found out," Skyfire said reasonably.

"He was unconscious by the time you paged me," Jazz commented. "I see your point, however." Jazz glanced over at the still unconscious Prowl. "How long before he wakes up, anyways?"

"Hopefully he'll wake up after I land," Skyfire said. "I asked Ratchet to keep him under for the trip if possible."

"Oh, so you're going to leave me with an upset Prowl?" Jazz asked.

"I think you can handle him," Skyfire said with a chuckle, and Jazz snickered an agreement.

\---

Prowl onlined to contentment. He could feel Jazz's presence not far away, as well as hearing the saboteur humming to himself pleasantly. In the background there was the soothing sound of ocean waves, the sun was shining down on him, warming him gently, and... _wait._ Prowl's optics flipped on and he rolled and sat up in one smooth motion before staring around himself with incredulity.

"Jazz?" he asked after a few moments.

"Yeah Prowler?" the saboteur replied cheerily, and the tactician looked over to see his bondmate attempting to build a sand castle.

"Why are we on a beach?" Prowl asked.

"Sentinel Prime," Jazz replied. Prowl stared blankly at him mate for several minutes before sighing and covering his face with his hands, knowing it would fry his logic circuits to try and understand. "Hey, come help me with this sand castle, willya?"


	9. Paralyzer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With their bond settled and their vacation over, Jazz and Prowl are back in the Ark...and of course Jazz has pictures. Which Prowl would rather the others had NOT seen.

Prowl wasn't aware of what Jazz was doing until the first few mechs came into his office to deliver reports, and grinned the entire time. Considering one of them was Gears, Prowl was understandably wary as he reached over his bond to Jazz, knowing that only his bondmate could have caused this unexpected phenomena. They had been met with grins and 'how was the vacation?'s when they returned, of course, but that had died down fairly quickly. This...this was new, and with a new source.

 _::Jazz...::_ Prowl said warily over the bond, and instantly he was filled with the brilliant presence of his bondmate. His bondmate was in a very good mood, and Prowl had to fight to keep his own mood from rising in response, and subsequently dismissing the whole reason he'd contacted the saboteur.

 _::Yeah Prowler?::_ Jazz replied with a grin in his voice, and Prowl knew immediately that he had been correct - his bondmate was behind this strange phenomena of grinning mechs.

 _::Would you happen to know why Gears spent his entire report grinning at me?::_ Prowl intoned, and there was a barely noticeable pause from Jazz.

 _::He must be in a good mood!::_ Jazz said, a chuckle in his voice now.

 _::Gears. In a good mood. Jazz, I know you know how to lie better than that,::_ Prowl said dryly.

 _::He got some interfacin' last night?::_ Jazz tried.

 _::And I suppose if I mention that Mirage was also grinning, you'll say that he was the one Gears was interfacing with,::_ Prowl said patiently.

 _::Nah, wouldn't spread nasty rumours like that. Hound's m'friend,::_ Jazz said, a smirk drifting through the connection, partly as a feeling, and partly as an image, triggered from Prowl's own databanks. For a moment, he could almost see Jazz's face in front of him, smirking. It was...vaguely disconcerting, and Prowl pushed it aside.

 _::What are you doing that has Gears grinning at me?::_ Prowl asked, getting back to the point.

 _::I ain't doin' nothin'!::_ Jazz protested cheerfully.

 _::Jazz...::_ Prowl said warningly.

 _::Prowl...::_ Jazz replied, mimicking his bonded's tone of voice. Prowl frowned, then felt along the connection a bit more. It wasn't hard to establish that Jazz was in the rec room, and as Jazz yelped mentally, realizing what his bondmate had done, Prowl quickly activated his computer and accessed the security monitors, using his command codes to bring up the one in the rec room. He was met by the sight of Jazz surrounded by mechs, who were looking at what appeared to be a multitude of pictures...of his and Prowl's recent enforced vacation. From the few of them Prowl could see decently, he knew that there were more than one or two that he hadn't known about. Most especially the ones of him stuck up in that blasted tree, the shark bite he'd managed to get and they'd had to call Ratchet to come fix, and several of Jazz's attempts to 'decorate' him while asleep. He'd quickly learned to wake up before Jazz when there were no other mechs around to distract him while Prowl slept.

This, obviously, explained why Gears and Mirage had been grinning at Prowl during their reports - it would be hard for any mech not to after seeing some of those pictures. Which was why he'd asked, nicely, that Jazz not show even the pictures Prowl knew about to the other mechs. Jazz had...well, Jazz had distracted him and never given Prowl an answer. A mistake Prowl wasn't soon to forget...especially since it opened the perfect opportunity for revenge.

 _::Prowl?::_ This time, Jazz was the wary one as he spoke over the still-open bond, obviously feeling the unusual mischievousness in his bondmate.

 _::I can't help but notice your picture collection is lacking in some respects,::_ Prowl replied amiably, and he felt Jazz tense. It was rather cute, how Prowl being amiable and mischievous had Jazz on high alert.

 _::No, these are pretty much all'a 'em,::_ Jazz replied.

 _::Reeeeeally...::_ Prowl drawled slowly, digging around in his databanks for the perfect image, and found it quickly. _::What about this one?::_ He didn't bothering filtering out the associated feelings or sensory data attached to the image - after all, they were what he wanted. He was fairly sure they, more that the image of Jazz's face the first time Prowl had made him overload, would affect the saboteur the way Prowl wanted them to. On the camera feed still displayed on his computer, Prowl saw Jazz imperceptibly still, the other mechs around him carrying on without noticing.

 _::I...don't really think th'other mechs would wanna see that,::_ Jazz said after a moment.

 _::No? What about this one?::_ Prowl sent another, of Jazz walking down a corridor in the ark ahead of him, temporary door wings spread teasingly, and hips cocked at an angle that made quite clear the fact that he'd been saucily wiggling them. Once again, Prowl was sure to let his feelings and sensory data associated with the image leak through.

 _::That might traumatize Blue,::_ Jazz said.

 _::Hmm, true...and he certainly wouldn't want to see this one...::_ Prowl sent another image, of Jazz with his hands cuffed up around a nearby tree, arching into hands caressing his headlights. Not giving Jazz time to recover, Prowl continued, _::Or this one.::_ Jazz looking down at him from a starry sky, a predatory look on his face, only moments before pouncing on his bondmate. _::And definitely not this one.::_ Jazz splayed out on the sand of 'their' beach, as they'd dubbed the spot Skyfire had dropped them, with his spark exposed and giving Prowl a look that had yet to precede anything other than a night of multiple interfacings. _::Wouldn't you agree?::_

 _::Uh...::_ Jazz couldn't seem to formulate a response, and Prowl smirked as he watched his bondmate jump when someone in the rec room touched his arm. There was obvious laughter among the other mechs, and while Jazz was trying to recover from the unexpected return to reality, Prowl took the opportunity to plunge into Jazz's own databanks.

 _::I doubt he'd find any of those quite as traumatizing as these ones, though,::_ Prowl said, and brought to the surface several more images, all of Prowl, from Jazz's point of view. Since the memories were already stirred up by Prowl's images, they were mostly the other side - what Prowl had looked like in response. As Prowl had anticipated, the images hit Jazz even harder, since they were his own. Jazz, however, wasn't head of the Autobot Special Ops for nothing - eventually, even under the barrage of images Prowl was sending him, he gained his footing, and Prowl found the images forced right back on him. He kept his cool, however, and changed tactics.

In the rec room, Jazz's visor flared and he was suddenly sitting ram-rod straight as Prowl left memories behind and accessed the saboteur's sensory network, creating ghostly feelings of his hands on the saboteurs neck, drifting up to his helm and then to the horns. Now the mechs around Jazz were getting concerned, and Prowl smirked as they tried to nudge Jazz to get him to respond, and the sensation of being touched shot through Jazz's suddenly over-active sensor net. Prowl could feel Jazz forcibly shut down his vocalizer as he continued with the sensor ghosts, and then the saboteur came after him, trying to force him out of his sensor network. Prowl went....straight into Jazz's auditory systems. He'd discovered, during their vacation, that certain beats, and certain tones, got Jazz...excited. And he quite freely subjected the saboteur to them now.

He was interrupted by the beeping of his comm. line, and he only half withdrew to answer, since Jazz was pretty much unable to think straight at this point.

 _"Prowl here,"_ he said.

 _"Yeah, Prowl...wouldja mind not overloading Jazz in the middle of the rec room? Blue's CPU might melt, and the rest of us don't care to see it much either,"_ Ironhide drawled over the line, and Prowl glanced over at the monitor screen to see Jazz sitting somewhat dazedly on the couch, other mechs now giving him a wide berth, either laughing or looking vaguely traumatized, except for Ironhide, who just looked resigned as he looked down at the saboteur.

 _"I wasn't planning to. I believe he's learned his lesson by now, anyways,"_ Prowl said dryly.

 _"Weren't you two supposed to work all this out on yer vacation?"_ Ironhide asked.

 _"Supposedly. Evidently we did not, however,"_ Prowl replied. _"I believe we'll be taking the rest of the day off to remedy that."_ Ironhide snorted and closed the line. Prowl, smirking, sent one last image over his bond with Jazz - this time of what he was seeing on the monitor for the rec room - and muted it, withdrawing to his own CPU and watching as Jazz suddenly burst from the couch, swearing up a storm and storming out of the rec room to the laughter of everyone around him. Prowl quickly turned off his computer and informed Optimus that he and Jazz would be taking the rest of the day off before leaving his office, right as an enraged Jazz rounded the corner. They froze for a moment, eyeing one another, and then Prowl transformed, peeling out and heading for the entrance of the Ark, with Jazz in hot pursuit.

The next mech to see them was Ratchet the next morning, who threw a fit about the dents and scrapes they'd 'somehow' gotten themselves covered in.


End file.
